


What I Take with Me

by tellthenight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Love Letters, M/M, Mute Dean, Mute Dean Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, Pining, Selectively Mute Dean, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Soldier!Cas, Unrequited Love, love letters AU, mechanic!Dean, soooooo much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6349555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellthenight/pseuds/tellthenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his head Dean understands that no one is actually leaving him, but as they pack boxes and tear down beds it sure feels that way. Sam is moving in with his fiance Jess, his best friends Cas and Benny deployed to Afghanistan, and Dean is going to live on his own for the next eight months until Cas gets back and they resume their roles as roommates.</p><p>Just before they finish loading the moving truck Dean finds a long-forgotten box under Cas's bed crammed full of handwritten letters. Most of them are from Cas’s sister Anna, but some are labeled for Dean. He can only resist reading for so long, and once he starts he can't stop. Each letter reveals more of Cas's perspective on their relationship over the four years they've known each other, and with each one Dean finds himself changing too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letter #1 and #2

**Author's Note:**

> If there was an archive warning for pining it would be marked for this fic. Fair warning.
> 
> Please let me know if I missed tagging something you think should be tagged. 
> 
> A special thank you to messier51 for ninja editing and profoundfall for beta skills.

“Is that the last box?” Sam called. He balanced two cardboard boxes as he glanced back at his brother. **  
**

“Yeah. Just the beds left.” Dean dragged the basic bed frame away from the wall after the door slammed shut behind Sam. The mattress was easy--he tilted it up and leaned it against the wall, followed by the box spring.  Then he went to work unscrewing the metal frame that held the whole setup off the floor. The first screw refused to budge until Dean got on his knees to put his full weight into it. Damn, they’d been there a long time. The screw shifted and Dean let out a frustrated noise.

“Sounds like the screw is winning,” Sam grinned at him. Kevin laughed, circling to the opposite side of the mattress to help Sam lift it.

“Ha ha,” Dean deadpanned. “Screw you.”

“That is…” Sam paused as he hefted his side of the mattress up, “... the worst joke you’ve made this week.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

The screw finally broke loose and his mouth spread in a triumphant grin. He slid the metal pieces together in a stack. “I’m putting the screws in my pocket. Don’t let me forget later.”

“Screws in your pocket,” Sam repeated as he set his corner of the mattress down long enough to open the door wide. "Got it. Feels like there’s a decent joke somewhere in there.”

Dean ignored him and moved to the bedroom he shared with Cas. Cas’s side was already empty except for the bed. Dean could still make out the faint lines where Cas had hung posters- the paint was brighter where it had been covered for four years. Dean could still see them in his head along with the familiar shape of his best friend sleeping across the room on nights when Dean couldn’t sleep. But it was empty now. Soon the whole apartment would be.

Cas shipped out almost two months ago. This time he’d be gone for ten months: his longest deployment so far. Sam was moving in with Jess, and that left Dean to pay the rent previously split by the three of them. He just couldn’t do it. He’d considered moving back to South Dakota to see if Bobby’d put up with him for a while or maybe even back to Kansas to see if he could patch things up with his dad. At least for now, though, he’d decided to stay. He liked having Sam close--hell, that’s why he moved out to the coast when Sam started school. He found a job at a local garage pretty quickly and even took odd jobs in the evenings while Sam was busy. Dean liked the work and good jobs with decent bosses were hard to find.

Benny brought Cas into their lives and Sam and Dean asked him to move in after they realized he was sleeping on their couch most nights. Splitting the rent by another person eased the financial burden on all three of them. Cas was always there anyway. Seemed only fitting to give him a real bed to sleep on.

Dean made quick work of his own bed and was on the floor undoing the metal frame by the time Kevin and Sam came back for Sam’s box spring. He added the screws for this frame to his pocket and started on Cas’s bed.

Dean was taking Cas’s stuff to his new, smaller place. They had shared a room for four years (minus the time Cas was deployed or at training), but Dean still wondered if it would be weird to share a bedroom in the new place when Cas got back. Dean never knew when Cas might want to move on. He’d expected Cas to leave after his first deployment.  And after the second, if slightly less so. This time? Dean wouldn’t hope. But he would bring Cas’s things to his new home.

Dean tried to slide Cas’s bed out from the wall, but it didn’t come as easily as the other two had. He tugged it again, and felt something catch on one of the wheels. He tilted the mattress and the box spring, leaning both against the wall. Squished up against one of the awful bed wheels, Dean could see a plastic shoebox hiding with the dust bunnies. He carefully extricated the box from under the bed frame, and blew most of the dust from its lid. Carefully, just in case it was one of Sam’s pranks long-forgotten, he lifted the lid.

Envelopes, wedged in so tight Dean could barely fit a finger between them, crowded the box. Some were so thin they seemed empty. Others were so full the lip wouldn’t close all the way. He pulled the first few out, recognizing Cas’s sister’s handwriting. Dean flipped through a few more of the envelopes. Though Anna never struck Dean as being terribly wordy, she seemed to write a lot.

 

> _Dean_

On an  envelope about a third of the way through the stack was his name. In Cas’s handwriting. Dean took a breath and glanced around to see if someone was watching him. He wasn’t going to read it. Cas would have given it to him if he was supposed to read it. _Right?_ Dean cautiously flipped to the next envelope, and then the next and the next, his name nearly identically drawn in the center of each. There were at least a dozen in a row and Dean brain itched with the urge to see what was inside.

“What’s that?” Sam breathed heavy after hauling the parts of Dean’s bed down the stairs and he stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

“I don’t know. A box. Nothing. Just found it under the bed.” Dean put the dusty lid back on and did his best not to look shifty.

“What is it?” Sam reached for the box. Dean panicked.

“God, you guys,” Kevin whined from the doorway after Dean and Sam crashed into the wall. “You’re both adults. No more wrestling. Someone’s going to break something.”

Dean grunted loud when his hip hit the wood floor, but he still did everything he could to keep the box out of Sam’s hands, twisting and writhing until he was curled up around it like he was protecting a football post tackle.

“Just tell me!” Sam insisted as he got fingers under the edge of the lid.

“Not yours!” Dean grunted, but Sam got just enough leverage that the box popped out between them and some of the letters scattered on the floor.

Dean scrambled for the envelope closest to him that clearly announced his name, cursing as he tried to collect them all back. Sam inspected the two he’d managed to capture.

“Who are these from?”

“They’re Cas’s. From his sister. Give ‘em back. I’m keeping them for him.” The lie rolled easily off Dean’s tongue. No way he was saying the truth.

“What the hell, Dean? You could have just said that.” Sam brushed himself off before helping Kevin move the next mattress. “Did you two never vacuum in here? All your dust bunnies mated and multiplied.”

Kevin laughed, but Dean was still trying to get the deep throbbing thud out of his chest. He packed the letters back into the cramped box, pausing when he realized he wasn’t sure of the order. Who cared about the letters from Anna… he slid pages out of the envelope he had protected from Sam and swallowed hard before he straightened the paper. All he wanted was a date so he could sort it out.

Cas, ever the one to follow the rules, had properly dated the letter in the right-hand corner. Four years ago: January 29th. They’d met right around then, at his 23rd birthday party--the first birthday he celebrated in California. Dean skimmed the first few lines of the letter before he heard Kevin and Sam laughing in the hall. Dean crunched the letter back into the envelope and snapped the lid in place just in time.

 

***

 

Sam’s phone rang just as they were unloading the last of the boxes in Dean’s apartment. “Jess,” he explained and went out in the hall.

“Hey, thanks for the bed, man,” Kevin said. “Mattresses are expensive.”

“What am I supposed to do with three beds?” Dean said. “Thank Jess for taking Sam into her place and freeing one up for you.”

Sam ducked back in. “Jess is getting off her shift early. Want her to come over? We can stay and help you unpack for awhile.”

Dean waved him off. “Nah. You have your own shit to unpack. Go do that.”

Dean looked around after the door swung shut. The new place was fine. Better than the old one in some ways--the kitchen had enough counter space to cook and a tiny closet held a washer and dryer combo, eliminating inconvenient trips to the laundromat wearing whatever he’d accidentally left for last in his dresser. But after Sam and Kevin left Dean on his own, the space felt too big and too quiet. He pulled his laptop out to at least get some decent music playing while he tried to organize his shit enough to sleep in his own bed.

The frame went together faster than it had come apart, and stacking the box spring and mattress took no time at all. Sheets went on, tucked in neat, a plain comforter thrown over the top. Dean pulled the edge to line up with the metal bed frame. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt important. Cas had teased him mercilessly about the fact that he made his bed every day but never had a straight line.

“Explain to me why you go to the trouble of doing it when you’re never precise about it,” Cas had said.

“You gotta’ make your bed every day, man,” Dean responded. “Mom’s rules. But sometimes you just don’t have the time-”

“If you have the time to do it at all you have the time to do it well.” And Cas had pushed Dean back to make the goddamn thing himself with hospital corners and the pillow laying square in the center.

Dean placed his pillow precisely like Cas preferred and looked the whole thing over to make sure it would be Cas-approved. If he got out of the habit Cas would probably kick his ass as soon as he got back. Even if they didn’t end up living together again.

Dean set up the shower curtain so he wouldn’t have to do it the next morning, and opened half the boxes in the apartment in search of his shampoo.

“Never movin’ again,” Dean muttered while he slid his jeans off. They hit the ground with a thud and a screw rolled loose out of the pocket. Dean laughed as he texted Kevin to tell him he’d deliver the screws the next day after work, then laughed harder at the flurry of swearing texted back.

He plugged his phone into the wall socket closest to the bed and rested the phone on the mattress next to him. No one else was going to call or text tonight, but just having the phone close made him feel like everyone was a little nearer. Dean rolled onto his back, arms crossed over his chest, and willed himself not to think about how much he missed Benny, Cas, Sam, Kevin--even Balthazar.

Eight more months until he’d see Benny, Cas, and Balthazar again. At least the three of them were together. They could email when they had access, and Cas said something about sometimes being able to manage a skype call, but Dean told him to save that for Anna. Anna needed to see her brother more than Dean needed to see his best friend.

And he had Sam. Sure they wouldn’t see each other much now that they weren’t living together, but he was still nearby. And Charlie--maybe he’d just spend more time with her. It would be fine. Dean would be fine.

It was almost two a.m. when he gave up on sleep and went for his laptop. Dean had his wifi setup the day before and while it had been a huge pain in the ass to get it done, he was thankful now for something to fill the silence. He was so used to Cas’s steady breathing in the bed across the room, and even over the last two months Dean slept okay at least knowing his brother was in the other room. The move to the one bedroom apartment was saving him money, but being really on his own for the first time…

“Get it together,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

Dean’s backpack was full of essentials--a change of clothes, his toothbrush and toothpaste and most importantly his laptop. Dean set up the computer on his bed and let it boot up while he shuffled back to his backpack to dig for the power cord. He wasn’t sure how much battery life was left--better to plug it in than lose power suddenly. He plugged it into the outlet just above his phone charger. Still waiting for the login screen, Dean distracted himself with getting his clothes out for work. Nothing fancy since it was just going to be hidden by coveralls all day, but a t-shirt and jeans would get him there.

Dean caught his foot against a stack of boxes on the way back to the bed and cursed as he bent over to examine the damage to his bare toes. No real harm, but the lack of sleep after such a long day was getting to him. He sat heavily on the bed, typed his password in on the laptop, and looked around the room. There was still so much to do, so much to unpack and-

_Cas’s box._

He put it in the bedroom when they first arrived so Sam and Kevin wouldn’t say anything else about it, but then he’d forgotten all about it in the rush to get everything inside.

Dean retrieved it from the stack of boxes and set it on the bed next to the laptop.

He shouldn’t do it. He knew that much. But it seemed like the sort of thing Cas would remember if it was important. He had left them behind and didn’t notice their absence, so how important could they be?

Dean pulled out the ones from Anna and tossed them on the bed, grabbing the first one with his name on it to read instead.

 

> _Dean,_
> 
> _You’ll never see this. It’s an exercise from my sister. She says if I write down all my feelings from the last week I can get you out of my head and move on. That’s the point and I’ll burn this letter later for good measure._
> 
> _I met you at your birthday party a few days ago. I thought you were attractive the moment you greeted me, but watching you with your friends and the way you sang karaoke cemented the feeling._
> 
> _I also know you’re straight as straight could be and there can never be anything between us. Not only that, but it sounds like you’re serious with your girlfriend and I would never get in the middle of a relationship._
> 
> _I believe we spent all of three minutes talking at that party and I’m sure my particularly keen attraction to you indicates that there is something wrong with me. That I would attach over three minutes of conversation and eye contact is preposterous. Benny speaks highly of you so I’m sure you are a fine man, but not someone to throw myself at. I will probably never even see you again._

Dean forced the letter back into the envelope and tossed it on top of the letters from Anna on the bed. He had been with Lisa four years ago, but it fizzled after a few months when she wanted more commitment. But Cas, and the idea that he had a crush on him? Dean smiled. They actually knew each other now and after four years living together Cas had obviously sorted it out and moved on. Things had never been like that between them. They’d become close friends quickly, and Dean had never really considered Cas to be anything else. He was just Cas.

Dean moved the laptop over and settled in the bed on his side, the box of envelopes next to him. He flipped through to count them all up--eighteen including the one he’d just read, and the envelopes seemed to grow thicker as he went. He pulled out the next one.

 

> _Dean,_
> 
> _I’m trying again. You still seem to be everywhere--both in my head and around town. I’ve seen you twice while out and the other day you fixed my car when I was stuck in Benny’s driveway. It’s ridiculous that I should have such a strong draw to you--hence my writing a second burnable letter. Getting it out, as Anna says. I believe our total time speaking to one another may add up to a full seven minutes now? Mostly because of my vehicle and your outrage at the way I’ve been caring for it._
> 
> _I’m about to be deployed again. This time it’s meant to be six months, and I may come back here with Balthazar after. Or the military will send me wherever they’ll send me and I’ll never see you again. Anna hopes I will remain stationed close to her, but I doubt it would mean seeing her any more frequently than I do right now._
> 
> _If I stay, I expect these feelings for you to be resolved after six months gone. I cannot imagine there would be any reason to still feel a connection after all that time apart, and then I’ll be free of this agonizing crush. A curse on your freckles._

Dean laughed out loud at Cas’s abrupt ending. “A curse on my freckles,” he muttered as he sat up and rearranged his laptop. He logged in to his email and started a message to Cas.

 

> _Cas,_
> 
> _Hope you’re settled in okay. I haven’t heard from you yet, but wanted to say hey. We got all the stuff moved to the new place. I haven’t set up your bed yet, but I figure I’ve got a while._

Dean glanced at the box and wavered. If he told him he found the box he’d have to tell him he started reading the letters.

 

> _Write when you have a minute so I know you’re okay. I heard from Benny, but not you yet._

Dean sent it and glanced over to the empty half of the room. The bedroom wasn’t huge, but bigger than the last place they’d shared. With Dean’s bed shoved in the far corner from the door the rest of the room yawned empty where Cas’s bed would go.

 _Tomorrow_ , he decided. Tomorrow after work he’d make a place for Cas.


	2. Letter #3 and #4

> _Dean,  
>  _
> 
> _I write Anna about once a week by hand. There are things I want to write down, but don’t want to write to her. Since it seems I’m building a small cache of letters to burn I may as well add to the kindling until I have enough for a bonfire._
> 
> _It was hard out here the first time I came, but in some ways it’s harder this second time. The first time you know that not everyone will make it, but you don’t truly comprehend until you see it happen. People go home injured all the time, but they go home dead too, and this time around that possibility feels too real. We are quiet right now, but they’ll move us soon and it’ll be weeks before I piece enough sentences together to make a letter long enough to send to my sister. I’ll add to this one as I go._
> 
> _It’s been a couple weeks since I last wrote. Andy was sent to a hospital in Germany today, shot through the shoulder. So close to his head. So close to Benny. A little better aim could have meant the death of either of them. Both of them._
> 
> _Hello. I mean to write a sentence or two each day, but getting everything in a day that has to be done means intentions frequently go unmet. It’s times like this that I’m particularly grateful to have no one waiting for me but Anna. The people serving with spouses and children at home have such a high demand on every second of their time and the burden weighs them down. I don’t have such ties, and at quiet times like this when everyone scrambles for computer time to make contact I sit back with pen and paper._
> 
> _Hello again. I believe I’ve changed my mind on you. I hope I get back and you remember me and want to know me better. Maybe we can be_

 

What a fucking disappointment. Dean flipped the page over just to make sure it didn’t continue on the other side. When there was nothing there he shook his head and folded the single page back along the creases Cas had folded nearly four years earlier.

He sometimes forgot that the first time he remembered Cas leaving wasn’t actually Cas’s first tour. He’d been in Iraq once before they met, but because Dean met him just before his second tour he mixed it up all the time. Right now Cas was over there for the fourth time. When he got back he’d have to decide on re-upping and Dean already knew he’d choose to do it all again.

Dean knew he should do something about the boxes sitting around, but he couldn’t find the energy. Once he sat down in front of the TV with his dinner there was very little chance of getting up again until he’d dozed off during reruns. He had enough unpacked to function, and as long as that was working he didn’t see a need to be in a hurry.

His phone rang and Dean set his plate on the floor.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, why?” Dean muted the TV.

“I thought you’d call before now or show up or… or something.”

“Nah. You’re grown. 22 is grown, right?” Dean asked. “Unpack your own shit.”

“Right.” Sam laughed, but didn’t sound convinced.

“I’m fine, Sam. What about you? You okay over there living in sin?”

“Completely unpacked, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, well, I have two people’s stuff over here.”

“You know you only need to unpack your own, right? Cas might find his own place when he gets back this time.”

Dean’s stomach twisted and he groaned as he sat up. He grabbed his plate to walk it to the sink. “Cas can do whatever, just like me. I’ll unpack whenever I want to unpack.”

“Have you even opened anything?”

Dean turned the water on and scraped the plate to loosen the remnants of his dinner. “I open stuff when I need it.”

Sam huffed into the phone. “I can imagine.”

Sure he hadn’t accomplished what he could have in the past week, but there was no one else around to complain. “Why’d you call, Sam? Just to check up on your big brother?”

“Jess wants you to come over for dinner. I mean, we both want you to come, but it was Jess’s idea. We’re probably going to invite Charlie and Kevin if you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah. Just tell me when. I’m working late on Thursday, but any other night should be okay.”

“Good. We’re thinking about Friday. Come whenever  after work and we’ll do food around seven.”

Dean hung up proud that he’d agreed to do something that didn’t involve sitting in the apartment all by himself.

When he got to Sam and Jess’s place Friday night he regretted agreeing so easily. Jess filled silences with wedding talk and Kevin and Charlie talked about some upgrade thing that was falling apart at work, but Dean had nothing to add. They all seemed to know how to move in this smaller group dynamic, and Dean couldn’t keep up.

“You okay?” Sam pulled him aside in the name of refilling everyone’s drinks. “You’re quiet tonight.”

Dean shrugged. “Not much to say. Everything’s the same.”

Sam’s eyebrows pinched in above his nose and his lips set in that firm line he reserved for his brother. Dean wasn’t keen to take the conversation further. He grabbed his beer and the one for Charlie before he left Sam to guess.

Nothing was going on, he was just out of step. Work was the same, but every other part of his life felt unstable. He had to get off the highway an exit earlier to get to the new place and he’d missed it twice that week. Unpacking boxes meant making decisions and Dean didn’t have the mental space for it. Without Sam and Cas to fill time in the evenings he floundered for a new routine. Most evenings so far had seen him planted in front of the TV in the name of eating dinner and unwinding after work. He told himself he just hadn’t found his footing yet. That’s all.

“You haven’t asked me over to your new place yet, Winchester,” Charlie said as she accepted her beer. “Not moved in enough yet?”

“For company? No. For you, sure.” Dean teased her. Sam smiled too, so maybe a little wise-cracking would get his brother off his back too.

When Dean got home he would have fallen straight into bed if it weren’t for his damn boots. It took forever to unlace each one, but while he worked at the tedious task his eyes lighted on Cas’s bed. He’d set it up the day after he moved in, and it had looked so naked that he found one of Cas’s box neatly labeled linens and made the bed for him. Hospital corners, neat line across the bottom. Cas wouldn’t use it for awhile, but it was there for him all the same.

Dean checked his email on his phone before getting ready for bed. He didn’t really expect an email back from Cas even after a week, but his chest still ached each time he realized none of the new emails were from Cas. He started deleting most incoming messages out of hand in frustration, leaving his inbox neater than it had ever been.

Still nothing from Cas. Dean tossed his phone on the bed. He got ready for bed because he knew he should.  As tired as he was he didn’t want to attempt sleep. His brain wouldn’t slow after the evening with others- exactly the opposite effect he expected. He wasn’t going to lay down just to toss and turn until the wee hours.

Dean settled on the couch with Indiana Jones playing, and he was half-asleep in minutes. He went in and out with the louder parts, and swatted around for the remote to turn it down when it was really interrupting his sleep. He hit the plastic edge of Cas’s box instead and cursed as he sat up, fingers smarting.

He cast bleary eyes on the TV, finally deciding to turn it all off and actually sleep in his bed. He stretched some of the stiffness from his back then turned out the light. He grabbed Cas’s box on his way out.

Dean flicked on the small lamp next to his bed and set the box on the nightstand before he settled under the blankets. He’d read one letter and get to sleep. This one was longer than the others--two pages covered both front and back. Dean greedily skimmed Cas’s neat lines of slanted handwriting before reading. The sight of the familiar print made him smile. Cas always left little shopping lists on the counter for whoever was doing the next food run.

“Why just a corner, asshole? What’s wrong with using the whole sheet so the rest of us can actually see it?” He’d finally asked about it, but then Cas started explaining about paper waste and goddamn it now he missed the son of a bitch.

 

> _Dean,_
> 
> _I started a letter before this, but it’s missing. I’m worried that I may have included it accidentally in my last letter to Anna, but there is nothing to be done now. If she asks about it I’ll know for sure. I can’t imagine she’ll be amused to know I still write to you, especially after what I wrote about her on that page. No matter that you don’t read my words, of course._
> 
> _I’m assuming I’ll do as I did last time and add when I’m able. I’m being particularly careful to keep this page separate from anything I write to Anna to avoid my last error. Right now we’re somewhat quiet. I have time to compose my thoughts before I write on some days now, but other days will still be a handful of scribbled sentences._
> 
> _Today, however, I am mostly concerned with closing up these last few weeks of my tour. We’re all counting down now--Benny most of all. He can’t wait to get back to Andrea. I bet you’re hearing about that from time to time if he gets messages to you. He doesn’t seem much of a writer, though, so maybe you two catch up when he gets home._
> 
> _Benny speaks of you frequently. Every time he says “this friend of mine” everyone knows it’s his friend “Winchester”. You have quite the reputation amongst this group of men you’ve never met. Balthazar has designs on meeting you when he gets back. And while I do count myself among the people who have met you, I certainly don’t know you. It feels as though I do, sometimes, through Benny’s stories. He told a story yesterday from when you were teenagers, and I hadn’t realized how long you’ve known each other. I thought perhaps he’d met you in California like I did._
> 
> _He misses you. He’d never say as much, but his frequent mentionings say otherwise. And he paints you to be both a casanova and a deep and caring friend.  I’ve never had a friendship like that. You are fortunate to have each other._
> 
> _Just a few minutes today- but I need to record Balthazar’s heroism. He kept me back when I would have run in and he quite possibly saved my life. The thought is both harrowing and humbling, particularly in how near we are to going home._
> 
> _Only six days now. Part of my days now consist of preparing to get back to the states, but there’s still work to be done. I’ve been thinking about where I’ll go once I get back. I know I always have a place with Anna and she reassures me that that is still true even though Michael isn’t particularly fond of me. I would rather not intrude on their newlywed life, however, and Balthazar has offered me temporary space as has Benny. I don’t think I should look for a place of my own when I will likely go back out within the year or be moved to another base. I’m hoping to make a roommate situation out of Balthazar if I can tolerate his lifestyle. He warns me that it is quite obnoxious but refuses to actually define the obnoxious behavior._
> 
> _There is always Anna._

 

Dean laughed at the mention of Balthazar. He was fuzzy on the precise details of how Cas had started spending so much time with him and Sam, but he did know that Balthazar and his endless parade of lovers had something to do with it.

 

> _I think about you when I have spare minutes. I wonder what your days are like. I remembered you were a mechanic, but Benny mentioned that you are also a musician. I should ask if he meant professional or hobbyist. I’m sure you work all day and then play your music at night._
> 
> _I also think about what I’ll write next while I work. At first this was like an extended journal entry that just happened to have your name attached, but I feel more like a narrator now. Writing is easy when I think you’ll never see it, but sometimes I imagine a scenario where I might actually give these to you some day. I don’t really know you- I have no idea what you’d think of my ramblings. You seem good-natured enough to be able to brush off my previous musings of a crush, but again--those words will never pass my lips. It’s been six months. You could very well be engaged by now or even married. You could have a child on the way, you may have broken it all off and moved on to another. Maybe this girl will be the right one._
> 
> _And again… I may never see you again at all._
> 
> _I’m going back to Anna’s first, and after we are settled stateside I’ll ask Benny about you again. There’s no harm in asking._

 

Dean folded the letter, following Cas’s creases carefully before he put the pages back in their envelope. He hadn’t realized how transient Cas felt at that time. Dean thought of him as rooted to Benny and Balthazar in those days. At some point he became an unofficial member of the Winchester clan. Sam was the one who thought of offering Cas residence; Dean was the one who gave up space in his room. He hadn’t been using it for much anyway.

The Cas in Dean’s head from that time didn’t seem attracted to him by the time they shared a room. The six months apart seemed to have done the trick, at least according to the letters. They had become close friends soon after, and that had to mean something. Dean had never seen Cas attracted to anyone before, though. Balthazar had dragged him out a few times to meet people, but Cas never brought anyone home. And he never got the smitten goofy eyes Sam had for Jess before Dean had ever met her. Cas had confessed once after drinks that he’d only ever had one semi-serious relationship, and he seemed so embarrassed that they’d never revisited the topic. Dean had never done the long-term thing by choice, but Cas knew that after he moved in with them.

He fell asleep hoping Cas understood there was a place waiting for him to return to. No more of the “where am I going to live” bullshit--he had a place with Dean and he always would.


	3. Say Something

Dean’s phone rang while he finished his lunch in the break room and he answered without checking the ID.

“Call your dad,” Bobby said.

“Nice to hear from you too,” Dean said.

“He’s coming your way and I figured you’d want to know before he shows up on your doorstep.”

 _Shit._ Dean wadded up the trash from his lunch and tossed it at the trashcan by the break room door. It banked off the side and hit the floor. _Son of a bitch._

“Why?” Dean asked as he pushed away from the table. He grabbed the trash from the floor and hit the can on his second attempt.

“He said he hadn’t seen California yet and he’s got something to give you.”

“What the hell does that mean, Bobby?” Dean asked.

Bobby sighed deep into the phone. “Hell if I know.”

“Well, thanks for the heads up, I guess. I’ll call him after work.”

“You do that. Let him know you’re ready for him.”

“Then he’ll know it was you, Bobby.”

“I don’t keep a shotgun next to me for nothing, boy.”

Dean chuckled as they said their goodbyes. He knew that was true. Bobby and John were old friends but not the good kind. They’d spent more of their time together bickering than anything else. Bobby wasn’t the type to abandon someone rough around the edges, and John had only grown more so after Mary’s death left him alone with two young boys. Bobby and Ellen’s place was the perfect place for John to park the boys periodically, so he never cut Bobby off either. They lived sort of peripherally to each other, stepping into each other’s lives when necessary, usually over Sam and Dean.

He checked the clock next to the door. Dean had a few more minutes of break time; might as well warn Sam. _Call after work. Dad coming--need new plan._ John hadn’t contacted them much in the four years they’d been gone, but they needed to be ready.

 _Goddamnit_ \--he needed to talk to Cas. Dean checked his email on his phone just in case there had been a miracle and his jerk best friend had decided to be a decent human being and drop him a line. Disappointed again, he swore under his breath.

Dean could only email so many times without looking like a stalker. He’d heard from Benny a couple times, and tried to include a nonchalant “kick Cas in the ass for me if he doesn’t email me soon.” He knew Cas was okay; Benny would find a way to let him know if anything bad happened.  But who the hell goes three months without saying a goddamn word to anybody?

_Cas’d email or write Anna though._

Dean scrolled through his contacts. Cas had gotten sick enough with the flu to be in the hospital overnight a year or so earlier and he was pretty sure--yep. Anna’s number was still there. He swallowed as he listened to the phone ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh, Anna? This is Dean Winchester. Cas’s roommate?”

“Yes? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah! Of course.” Dean’s face heated instantly. His bravado threatened to fail him as he tried to think of something to say. “I was just making sure Cas gave you the new address. I moved his stuff about a month ago.”

“Right,” Anna said. “I forgot you guys were moving. Give me a second to get some paper.”

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out while he tried to get the right words together without looking like his call was something it wasn’t. He just wanted to make sure--

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Dean recited the new address and when he finished he jumped right in before he could chicken out. “Does he write you much? Cause I can’t even get a simple email out of the guy.”

There was a long pause on the other end. “Cas hasn’t called you? Or emailed?”

“Is everything okay?” Dean’s heart pounded. “Should he have--”

“Everything’s fine,” Anna said. “Cas is fine. Sorry. I’m just surprised he hasn’t contacted you by now.”

Dean breathed deep, trying to will his pulse slower. “Does he write you a lot?”

“Mostly letters--like on actual paper. I don’t really get emails from him while he’s overseas unless he’s about to come home.”

“He doesn’t skype you or anything?”

“Uh, I think we did that once while he was gone last time? I don’t know,” Anna laughed. “Cas isn’t the best about communication.”

“I realize that.” Dean sighed. “So his stuff is at the new place and ready for him whenever he gets back.”

Anna hesitated and Dean rolled his eyes at himself. “Okay. Thanks,” she said and Dean sat back with a thump when she ended the call. That wasn’t weird at all. No--calling up Cas’s sister to check on him was _perfectly normal_ behavior.

 

***

 

“You could at least make better paths.” Sam jumped on the box situation immediately. “Are they stacked by room or something?”

“I told you, the important stuff is already out. And I can get where I need to go.”

“Let me help,” Sam said, and went for one of the stacks Dean knew was Cas’s.

“If you can read the words on the box it’s probably not mine.”

Sam snorted. “Well, that makes it easier.”

Dean tensed as Sam unstacked a few boxes, looking for one to open. Maybe having someone to talk to while he worked would help, and Sam would know where stuff should go. Sam shuffled some things around and Dean retrieved beer from the kitchen for both of them. When he got back Sam was holding a stack of records in one hand and his eyebrows went up.

“You haven’t set up your turntable yet?”

“Do you not get how tired I am after a long work day? I don’t have time to--”

Sam shook his head, frustration painted clear on his face. The sympathy in his eyes was worse.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dean ordered. “Not you. I’m fine here. I can unpack whatever the hell I want. Or not.”

“Fine.” Sam lowered the vinyl back into the box and stood up. “All I asked was why you hadn’t set up your music yet. You’re overreacting.”

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean went to his room, stalking the length of it back and forth. It wasn’t a big deal. He was just irritable. Long day at work, Dad maybe coming to town, Cas not giving a damn about him. _Suck it up, Winchester. You’ve seen worse._

“Hey.” Sam leaned in the doorway and took a deep breath. Dean didn’t want to let him get started again, but he didn’t have anything ready to say except for ‘get the fuck out.’

“I’m sorry. It’s your stuff and you can do what you want with it.” Sam slowly appraised the room, starting with Dean’s side and sweeping to Cas’s. He paused there for a moment before he spoke again. “Have you heard anything from Cas?”

“Not yet.” Dean looked down. He didn’t need to see what Sam thought of him . “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered as he pushed past Sam and grabbed his jacket. He was already down the hall before Sam came out of the apartment door.

Sam kept his mouth shut all the way to the bar. They needed to talk about the situation with their dad--that was the whole reason Sam was hanging out with him--but Dean was pretty damn sure that Sam wanted to talk  about the unpacked boxes. Sam opened his mouth after they got their drinks.

“Jess and I are going to make the Friday night movie thing happen every week. We can keep it to the five of us if you want.”

Dean’s eyebrows popped up. “You can invite whoever you want.”

“I’ll let Kevin and Charlie know.” Sam slid his fingers through the ring of condensation where his beer bottle had been on the counter.

“So what do you want to do about Dad?” Dean asked. Might as well jump right in to avoid Sam’s harassment over the boxes in his apartment.

“I was thinking I can call him and have him meet me and Jess. You don’t even have to see him if you don’t want to.”

“Hey--it’s not like I can’t be in the same room with the guy. I’m over it. I just don’t want him, you know--” _inspecting my place, butting in, telling me how to live my life..._ “--involved.”

“Fair enough. You come over, Jess and I will have him come to our place, he can give you whatever this thing is, and I’ll get him to move on.”

“I don’t know, Sam. It’s probably okay.”

“No, Dean. He doesn’t get to treat you like shit and then just walk back into your life.” Sam took a drink and sat back in his chair. “Has he called you to apologize? Has he done anything at all to make up for how he treated you and Cas?”

Dean looked away. “We’re not going to talk about that tonight. Just--you call him and set it up and I’ll be there.”

“Dean,” Sam’s eyes went soft with sympathy again.

“I told you to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like there’s something wrong with me! I’m fine.”

Sam sat still and Dean tried to do the same while Sam inspected him.

“Okay,” Sam finally said. “If you say so.”

Dean dropped Sam off at his car and took the parking space Sam left vacant. They hadn’t talked on the way back either, and Dean wasn’t as grateful for that as he thought he would be by the time he reached his apartment. He missed having Sam around and instead of taking advantage of their time together he’d spent most of it moping.

He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and stripped off his jacket and flannel as he went. He sat heavy on the bed to take his boots off, and laid back after he tossed them to the side.

At least he didn’t have to try to talk to his dad like Bobby had suggested. Sam would do the heavy lifting. He could keep his mouth shut and his hands under control this time no matter what stupid bullshit his father spouted.

Dean needed a drink, but the couple of beers left in the fridge wouldn’t be enough to finish what he’d started while he was out with Sam. In some misguided attempt at brotherly love he’d given Sam most of the hard stuff when they moved. He might have a bottle of something somewhere, but it would be in one of the fucking boxes he hadn’t bothered to unpack.

Sometime around the age of 16, after being left with Bobby and Ellen for nearly a year, Dean had realized that his father didn’t deserve the kind of respect Dean gave him whenever he reappeared in their lives. When John came around the next time and realized he’d lost Dean’s “yes, sir” attitude, everything went wrong between them. He didn’t come back for the boys again.

It wasn’t a big loss. He graduated high school and worked for Bobby while he earned the certifications he needed to work on cars full time. Sam did a million times better for himself and when he got accepted to Stanford no one was surprised that Dean moved with him. They went back home to see Bobby and Ellen when they could. They took Cas a couple times too after he moved in.

Cas had been living with them for over a year when Bobby called to tell them Ellen was in the hospital. No one expected her to die a couple days later. When he called the second time Dean thought it would be an ‘all clear.’ He remembered handing the phone off to Cas and laying down on his bed, but not much else until Sam yelled at him to get his ass packed up so they could make the drive to South Dakota.

Dean didn’t remember packing or much of the drive. Between the three of them they drove straight up to Bobby’s doorstep. Sam clapped Bobby on the back and hugged him tight while giving his condolences. Dean met Bobby’s eyes and knew there absolutely nothing he could say to make anything better.

He kept his mouth shut, hugged Bobby, and poured them both a shot when they got inside.

“I’m worried about you,” Cas said on the third night. Sam and Bobby had gone to bed as soon as they got home from the visitation at the funeral home. Dean had to _do_ something, so he moved through Bobby’s house, washing the last of the dishes in the sink, wiping counters and ironing their shirts for the funeral. Cas offered to help, but Dean wouldn’t let him. Cas let him work.

Dean parked himself on the couch when he ran out of things to do, unable to put together the brain cells to change out of his clothes or make it up the stairs. Cas sat next to Dean with a drink in each hand. He held one out to Dean, but Dean only stared at it.

“Dean?” Cas’s soft low voice brought him back to present. “You haven’t said a word since we got here. I know you’re upset. I mean, this is terrible, but… say something. Please.”

Dean nodded slowly. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the words. He had a million of them pressing at his skull, ready to burst, but the whole mess agreed on one very large point: it was fucking wrong for Ellen to die. More than wrong. Cruel and brutal and…

“It’s okay, Dean.”

Dean turned into Cas’s extended arms and melted against his body. He wasn’t sure when he had started crying, but Cas didn’t seem to care.

When Sam woke them up the next morning to get ready for the funeral Dean didn’t want to open his eyes. Sleep was safe, the couch was warm, and he was pretty sure Cas was still holding on to him. He sat up slowly and shook Cas’s shoulder, eyeballing Sam to gauge his reaction.Sam was already talking about what they needed to do before they went to the church. Dean nodded along and shook Cas again.

They managed to arrive on time in their dark suits and ties, white shirts pressed. Cas wore his dress uniform, easily outshining the three of them. And Dean was fine. He was fine, until they reached the doors of the church and he caught sight of the coffin. Then his knees went loose, and if it weren’t for Cas he would have hit the ground flat on his face.

“Here. Over here.” Cas was saying and then they were sitting together and Cas was pushing Dean’s head down and telling him to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. Everything was too hot and too heavy until Cas put his arm around Dean’s shoulders and scooted closer to him on the bench.

“We don’t have to go in,” Cas whispered. “Ellen knows you love her even if you’re out here.”

Dean clasped his hands around the back of his neck, keeping his head down. _In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth..._

“Dean, you okay?” Sam crouched in front of him, and Dean looked up enough to meet Sam’s worried eyes. He straightened up and Cas’s arm slid from his back. He nodded at Sam, even as he screwed up his face to try to keep himself together.

Cas and Sam each took a side and the three of them walked in together to sit with Bobby and say goodbye to the woman who had practically raised them.

Dean thought he saw John in the corner of his eye after the service was over, he elbowed Sam for a second opinion, but by the time he got his brother’s attention the crowd had shifted. Sam and Dean didn’t know many of the people there, but they all seemed to know Sam and Dean were Ellen’s boys.

They shook hands and accepted the offered apologies until their father was the next in line. Sam stiffened at the sight of him, and Dean straightened up too. The muscle in his jaw jumped as he swallowed a thousand words. They hadn’t seen each other since Sam’s high school graduation two years ago.

“Hey, boys.” John offered his hand to Sam and Sam shook it slowly.

“Dad,” Sam said. “We didn’t know you were in town.”

“So that’s why you never stop by to see me when you come to town for holidays with Bobby and Ellen.” John shook his head. “Bobby called me after it happened. Figured I should come pay respects.” John turned to Dean and offered his hand. “Haven’t seen you in awhile, son.”

Dean breathed in deep, chest filling full before he shook his father’s hand.

“Nothing to say to your old man?” John asked, eyes narrowing.

“He’s fine,” Sam said. “Bobby’s over there. We can go say hi.” He clapped a hand on his father’s shoulder in an attempt to steer him away, but John made himself immoveable and dared Sam with a look.

“Your brother can’t say five words to his own father first?”

“Dad, don’t make him,” Sam said.

“Oh,” John said. To anyone else that little word seemed innocent enough, but then he bent to catch Dean’s lowered gaze and shook his head in disgust. “You did this after your mother too. Snap out of it.”

“What?” Sam asked. “Dad, you can’t--”

“It’s all in his head.” John turned back and met Dean’s eyes. “C’mon, Dean. It was stupid when you were four and it’s fucking ridiculous as an adult. Just open your mouth and talk.”

Dean started to shake--just his hands at first but then through his core. He could see everything happening in front of him: Cas crossing the room, Sam hissing at their father, everyone starting to look their direction. It wasn’t until he heard Cas over his shoulder and felt the sturdy hand on his back that Dean became fully present again. “Hey, what’s going on? Dean?”

“Who are you?” John demanded.

“Cas, their roommate. You?”

“Their father. This is family business, so you can fuck off.”

Cas didn’t move. “I’m here for Dean and Sam. If they want me to go I’ll go.” He looked at Dean for confirmation, and Dean didn’t know what to do. People were already staring and Sam was trying to get Bobby’s attention from across the room in case it was one of the times their father completely lost it.

But John laughed, and that was worse.

“I don’t know how you got to be so fucking needy,” he said and gestured to Cas while his eyes dug into Dean. “Maybe your friend here can finally teach you some respect since you never listened to me.” John sneered. “Open your goddamn mouth and say something already.”

Dean wanted to yell _don’t talk about Cas_ , but he squeezed his hands tight and gritted his teeth. No goddamn way he was saying a word in front of his dad and giving him the satisfaction. He looked at Sam for some kind of help, but Cas had edged his body between Dean and John.

“You should go, _sir_.” The usual warmth in Cas’s voice disappeared behind something harder.

John’s eyes flicked to Cas for a long moment before he looked back. “Aren’t you lucky to have your own bodyguard to take care of your business for you? I guess he doesn’t mind wasting his time on you.”

Dean exploded.

His face went hot at the memory. He had this blank spot for a minute or two between the moment of blind rage surging through him and the moment when he realized Cas was practically sitting on him to hold him down, Sam standing on guard between Dean and their father on the floor. Dean remembered every second leading up to it and then nothing until he heard someone saying something about calling the police. Mostly he remembered Bobby’s disappointed eyes and Cas’s warm hand on his back.

Dean swiped at his face.

He needed to talk to Cas.

He needed one goddamn email.

_Cas, my dad is coming to California. Stop being an asshole and email me back._

He laid there waiting after he sent it like Cas would immediately respond now that Dean was calling him names, but he knew the score. Dean pushed up off the bed and went out to the couch so the TV could keep him company while he tried to sleep. 


	4. Letters #5 and #6

 

> _Dean,_
> 
> _A month ago Benny invited me to a party and you were there too. You were very concerned about how my car was doing. I’ve been over to your place a couple times now, and I’m going over again tonight to fill in for one of your other friends at a game night. You invited me._
> 
> _I think I’m done writing you after this. It was kind of weird of me to do this letter thing in the first place, but now that we’re actually becoming friends it’s downright crazy for me to continue writing instead of actually talking to you. Writing you and Anna over my tour was good, but I have the chance to actually know you, so last time writing._

“Son of a bitch is ditching me in his letters too,” Dean muttered. He folded the single page back into its envelope and replaced it in order in the box, trading it for the next one.

This letter was different than the others. Cas listed movies and TV shows in three columns, and by the time Dean got to Cas’s note at the bottom of the page he knew where the list had come from.

 

> _Dean,_
> 
> _You have taken it upon yourself to make me watch pretty much everything that has ever aired in the history of American television. I basically spent the last three months on your couch every weekend so you could “educate” me. Your obsession with Harrison Ford is hilarious, especially when Sam pokes at it._
> 
> _I’m keeping a list so I don’t forget what we’ve seen. I’m trying to keep up on all your pop culture references, but I’m pretty sure you’ve given up on me._

Dean chuckled. He hadn’t given up exactly, just tried to limit his referencing to stuff Cas might catch. He flipped the page over looking for anything else, but the back was blank. He tucked the letter away and slid his phone from his pocket to check his email.

He’d sent the one-liner two days earlier, and heard nothing yet in return. Disappointment shifted into deep melancholy and then into resentment. Cas not writing back was Cas’s problem. Not his. If he didn’t want to say anything that was on Cas.

Dean finished getting ready for movie night at Sam’s. He was going because he was supposed to. He was going because not showing up for movie night would beg questions and he didn’t want to talk about it.

Charlie was already there and her bright smile lifted his spirits. “We’re trying to decide. I voted _Deathly Hallows_ , but Sam thinks we’ve seen it too many times.”

“I don’t care,” Dean said. ”Whatever is fine.”

Dean saw the look Sam and Charlie exchanged, but he ignored them and went to the kitchen where Jess was making popcorn at the stove. “I brought beer.”

“Thanks. There should be room in the fridge.”

Dean opened the door and stored the six pack on the bottom shelf. He took his time. If he looked busy maybe they wouldn’t ask. He couldn’t just stand around in the kitchen though.

“Need help?” He asked Jess.

“Sure. Can you take some of the food out to the table?”

Sam opened the door for Kevin just as Dean came in with chips and a plate of cookies, and Charlie jumped on him immediately.

“ _Deathly Hallows_ tonight, right, Kevin?”

“Come on, Charlie. We can’t just start in the middle of a series.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I don’t know. _Independence Day_? Aliens are always good.”

“Just pick something so we can get this thing started,” Dean groused.

Sam laughed. “Got a hot date after this?”

“No, just-” Dean pursed his lips. “If we’re going to do this let’s do it.” He set the food on the coffee table and returned to the kitchen.

Jess was pouring popcorn into bowls and she smiled at him. “Drinks?”

“Yeah.” _Should’ve brought more._

Jess stood in front of the TV by the time Dean finished getting drinks for everyone, a mystery disc in her hand.

“Just tell us what it is,” Kevin complained.

“This is what happens when you just about come to blows over movie selections.” Jess closed the blu-ray player and took her place curled up under Sam’s arm with the remote in her hand. Dean sat next to Charlie and they all groaned with the menu popped up.

“ _The Notebook_? Really?” Kevin demanded.

“Maybe if you play nice next time it can be your turn to choose,” Jess said as she started the movie.

Digs and laughs were traded in the first 15 minutes or so, but about an hour in everyone shushed Dean when his phone beeped.

“Phones off!” Kevin hissed, eyes glued to the screen.

Dean rolled his eyes, but turned his phone down anyway. He should have done it before the movie started, but he was so busy trying to avoid conversation that he forgot. He went after the source of the ping, and when the notification popped up everything froze.

 

> _From: Cas Novak <hotwings@..._
> 
> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I apologize for not writing sooner. Benny mentioned that I should, and I fully intended to. I didn’t notice how long it had been until Anna wrote me. I got the email about your father. I’m very sorry._

Dean swallowed the lump that appeared out of nowhere. He glanced around the room. Could he covertly read without someone harassing him about putting his phone away? He scrolled down. Damn, the message was long. He could feel Sam giving him the stink eye.

“Keep going without me. Bathroom,” Dean said as he got up. He closed and locked the door, put the lid down on the toilet and sat before reading.

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I apologize for not writing sooner. Benny mentioned that I should, and I fully intended to. I didn’t notice how long it had been until Anna wrote me. I got the email about your father. I’m very sorry._
> 
> _There’s nothing interesting to report from here. We’re pretty busy. That’s a fact, not an excuse for my lack of communication. Last time I was here you and I didn’t write frequently and I didn’t think you’d notice. I write Anna, but not really anyone else... I hope you don’t think this had anything to do with you. It’s good to hear from you._
> 
> _Anna said you’ve moved and everything seemed to go smoothly. Thank you for taking care of my things. I’ll unpack as soon as I get back, although I’m sure you’ve unpacked most of it. Don’t worry about my stuff. Put it under the bed or something and I’ll take care of it when I get back. I hope you didn’t unpack everything alone. That’s a lot of work to do on your own around your work schedule._
> 
> _What’s going on with your father? Why would he come now? What does he want? Make sure Sam is with you. I want you to have someone on your side when you see him. In fact, bring everyone you know. Maybe he’ll behave better if there are enough witnesses. I wish I could be there to help._
> 
> _You can always say no, too. Remember that. Just because he’s your father doesn’t mean he has the right to see you whenever he wants. Tell him no if that’s what you want to do._
> 
> _Again--I’m sorry. Being here means everything is work and time seems to run differently. Anna has complained to me before about how long it takes me to write each time. I’ve gotten better at staying in contact with her, but didn’t think anyone else might want to hear from me._
> 
> _I’ll write again soon._
> 
> _Cas_

Dean went back to the top and re-read the entire thing. Reading Cas’s words brought more relief than he’d anticipated and he pushed down the swell in his chest and forced himself to breath slow. No way he could avoid questions if he came out of the bathroom with red eyes.

He resisted the urge to read it all a third time and pocketed his phone. Dean turned on the water and splashed some on his face before he went out. Fortunately everyone was so focused on Noah showing Allie his dream house that Dean slipped back into place easily. His mind, however, never made it back to the film.

Cas wrote back. Dean felt like he could finally breathe--except that what Cas had to say still left him on edge. He was tempted to cut out early so he could go home and look it all over again. Dean had to write back, and he wanted to do it while Cas might still have computer access.

Charlie nudged him when the credits rolled. “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Aw, Charlie--you don’t want to come over. There’s boxes everywhere.”

“Yep,” Sam confirmed. “He doesn’t even have decent paths. Watch your step if you go.”

“I can help you unpack, you know.” Charlie said. “I didn’t get to help on moving day.”

“I don’t need help,” Dean said, but Cas’s instruction to ask for help burned in the back of his mind. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Whatever, dude. I’ll bring the pizza.”

Dean smiled. “Maybe I’ll even let you watch Deathly Hallows.”

“Hey,” Sam called for Dean’s attention. “Help me in the kitchen?”

Dean took his and Charlie’s empty bottles with him and Sam pointed him to the counter as he grabbed the trashcan from under the sink. “Talked to dad.”

“And?”

“He just said he’ll call when he gets here.”

Dean ground the heel of his hand against one of his eyes. “Shit. That’s… how are we supposed to plan around that?”

“I know. I told him we’re both busy, but-” Sam shrugged as if that motion explained everything. “Surprise, surprise--he didn’t care.”

“Always his own goddamn schedule.” Dean flipped the water on and started rinsing bottles for recycling.

 

***

 

The only good thing about living alone, Dean decided, was being able to strip anywhere in the apartment and leave his clothes on the floor. He left his jacket on a box next to the door as soon as he walked in. His flannel ended up on the floor by the couch. He didn’t take off his shoes until he sat on his bed, and he left them right in the middle of the room. Reading Cas’s email again when he sat down with the laptop introduced nerves to the situation. Dean had to write back, and he had no idea what to say.

 

> _Cas,_
> 
> _Way to wait until I called your sister to see if you were still alive. I get it, but if you go overseas again you could at least let me know you’re okay._

Dean stalled out thinking about the move. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t about to tell Cas the truth.

 

> _The move went fine. Kind of a pain in the ass, but it’s done now. Your stuff is still in boxes like you want. Easy to move them wherever you want later._
> 
> _I have no idea why my dad is coming. Bobby warned me but he didn’t know much. Sam called dad back, but he just said he’d be here soon. I’m going to meet him with Sam and Jess._

Dean paused at the next part of Cas’s letter. _Just because he’s your father doesn’t mean he has the right to see you whenever he wants. Tell him no if that’s what you want to do._ Telling John Winchester to do anything other than what he wanted to do never ended well. But Cas had only met him the one time--he didn’t understand. Not really.

 

> _Seriously though--don’t worry too much about not writing. I just wanted to know you’re okay. Write when you have a chance so I’ll know._
> 
> _Dean_

He went over the letter a dozen times. Should he say something about the box he’d found? No… he’d have to confess to reading some of them, and chances were good Cas wouldn’t like it. Dean looked over at the box on his nightstand. He shouldn’t read them any more--especially now that he’d be hearing from present-day Cas regularly.

His letter didn’t say enough, but every time Dean tried to add something else it seemed wrong or ridiculous. After an hour wavering Dean finally hit send and the nerves that had been humming under his skin settled in his stomach. No way he was going to sleep after that.

TV time on the couch would probably do the trick after a while, but when Dean got out there with boxes all around him his fingers itched for something to do. He started in the kitchen, cleaning up from the last few days of laziness. Once the dishes were soaking and counters wiped down, he opened the cabinets. It was a small kitchen, but most of the space was still empty. Sure, Sam had taken some things with him, but Dean knew there was another kitchen box floating around somewhere in the stacks. Looking for it without any legible markings, however, was an overwhelming prospect at best.

Dean gave it a chance, pulling the tape off of several boxes and re-stacking them according to where they actually belonged. He had to come across the kitchen box some time, and he was determined to keep going until he found it or passed out. When Dean got to the box with the turntable that Sam had already opened he glanced over at the entertainment center. He might as well set it up. Besides, music would only make the unpacking go faster.

 

***

 

“Nice place,” Charlie said, surveying the stacks of boxes in the living room.

Dean scoffed. “I stacked these boxes especially for you, Bradbury. Real life tetris.” Charlie didn’t understand the difference between the state of the boxes when Sam had come over versus how they were for her visit. He’d stayed up until almost five a.m. making sure most of the DVDs had found a place in the entertainment center alongside the turntable. Vinyl records lined the shelves opposite the DVDs. So maybe he’d only gotten rid of five cardboard boxes, but the rest were now organized according to where their contents belonged. He’d even moved some of Cas’s boxes into the bedroom. They didn’t fit under the bed, but Dean stacked several neatly at the foot.

“How do you even have this much stuff?” Charlie asked.

“Hey, half of it belongs to Cas.”

“I know, but the other half?”

“Books?”

“Do you want some help with it?” Charlie asked. “I’m probably the fastest alphabetizer you know.”

Dean laughed. “First of all, that’s one hell of a weird thing to be proud of, and second--no bookshelves.”

“So you really need me to take you bookshelf shopping.”

Dean pointed to the couch. “Sit your ass down. Pizza eating. Movie watching.” He set the pizza box on the counter, intending to head for plates next, but Charlie poked her head into the bedroom instead. Dean followed her in.

“Hey, I said movie and eating, not bedroom and ogling.” Dean crossed to where he’d left dirty clothes on the floor and snatched them up.

“I expected the full tour but you seemed unwilling to offer. Rude by the way.” Charlie gave him a significant look and swung her gaze back to Cas’s bed.

“No time to unpack the stuff you use every day but you had time to make Cas’s bed?”

Dean sputtered as his face heated up and he turned away under the guise of finding a place to stash his dirty clothes. “Can we just eat some goddamn pizza?”

Charlie followed him back to the living room and by the time he retrieved plates and drinks from the fridge the _Deathly Hallows_ part one menu screen was looping on the TV. Dean didn’t relax next to her until they were well into the movie, empty plates put aside and Charlie curled under a blanket he’d dug out just for her.

“Pause.” Charlie had to jump up for the bathroom halfway through most movies, and Dean took the opportunity to clean up a little and grab another beer.

“Your soap smells nice,” Charlie said when she came out of the bathroom. “Excellent choice.”

“Uh… thank you?” Dean said. He fell back into place on the couch and Charlie sat too, but facing him this time. He handed her a beer.

“He’s fine, you know. Cas.”

Dean looked down. He knew that. He wasn’t an idiot.

“He didn’t make a lot of contact at the beginning of the last tour either,” Charlie continued.

“Why are you-”

“You’re taking care of his stuff because you can’t take care of him.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Charlie-”

“I know you inside out, Dean Winchester. Don’t try to lie to me.”

“You wanna finish watching this or you wanna show yourself out?” Dean felt her eyes all over him, and his body flared alert, hair raised and prickling. “Serious, Charlie. I’m not talking about this.”

“Woah. Aggro much?” Charlie said, eyes comically wide for effect. “Since the move you’ve seemed really upset. Everyone has noticed and we’re all worried. You were acting weird before that too, ever since Cas left, but it’s worse now. Will you please just tell me what’s going on?”

Dean closed his eyes. What exactly was this? He missed Cas. And Sam. And the way everything used to be with them all together.

He really missed Cas.

“Have you heard from him yet?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean picked up the remote to start the movie again, but Charlie deftly stole it back. Dean stared defiantly at the TV.

“Good! What did he say?”

Dean looked down. “I don’t know, Charlie. Just the normal stuff.”

“I’m going to ask you a question. And… you know, you don’t have to answer. I just want to help.”

“What the fuck, Charlie?”

“Do you have feelings for Cas? Like… do you like him? ‘Like’ like him?” Charlie asked, air-quoting her last question.

Dean’s face went hot. “What is this, middle school? Are we braiding hair next? Wrong Winchester.”

She laughed, but said his name in a way that told him she was going to ask again. Dean knew her just as well as she knew him, and Charlie Bradbury didn’t often back down.

“It’s not--I don’t--I mean…” Dean sputtered.

"Seems like something more than _like_ , Dean." Dean faced her fully and met her eyes. He could see every ounce of worry and hope, side by side with a little glint of fear that she’d pushed too far. He breathed in despite his tightening chest. This was exactly what he didn’t want to talk about.

"Jesus christ, Charlie, stop saying stuff like that. Cas is just my friend."

“How many times has Benny gone over?"

“What does that have to do with Cas?”

Charlie gave him an insistent look and Dean shook his head as he answered. “I don’t know- three? Four times? I don’t keep track of him.”

"Have you ever felt this way because your good friend Benny was overseas?"

"Yeah, but Cas is... Cas is different. Maybe it’s because he’s going to be gone so long, Charlie. He’s spending almost a whole goddamn year in a dangerous place where anything can happen to him. And he’s my best friend. No offense. I like you too, but-”

“I know.” Charlie’s sympathetic look was so like Sam’s that he immediately started to sputter denials. Charlie just spoke over him. “Benny’s with Cas. Same bunk.”

Dean knew he needed to fire back with something to get her off his back, but there wasn’t anything to say. Not a damn word.

“You don’t think that maybe that means there’s something more going on here?”

“C’mon, Charlie. This is Cas we’re talking about.”

“Exactly. It’s Cas,” she said. “And you.”

Dean slumped back against the arm of the couch. He wanted to scream at her, react and push her away. But mostly he wanted to curl in tight and do whatever it took to forget the whole conversation. It was precisely what he didn’t want to talk about.

“I don’t think Cas… I mean, he doesn’t feel like… Charlie…” Dean failed in each restart. He had so carefully not thought about any of this that he couldn’t put it into words.

“I can’t speak for Cas, but I know him well enough. If you feel that way about him he deserves to know.”

Dean nodded, but kept his eyes down. He had excuses lined up in his head. He’d always been with someone else when there could have been an opportunity with Cas and he wasn’t a cheater. And besides--Cas had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in dating. He never went out with anyone, instead choosing to spend his time with...

“Charlie, maybe you’re right.” Dean said.

Charlie grinned. “Of course I am.”

“But I can’t…”

 “I know,” she said with a sigh before she took pity on him and restarted the movie.


	5. Letter #7

It didn’t hit him until Charlie left and he was throwing away the evidence of their evening together. Dean set the empty bottles on the counter and leaned forward, gripping the counter for suddenly needed support. Charlie had provided her commentary and Dean followed along the path with her. She had a point about him and Cas--it was different between them than anything Dean had ever had in a friendship,  but Cas had never said a word to his face, and the little bit of a crush or whatever it was Cas had years ago in his letters was gone. He said so in his own words.

So what if Dean felt something more than ‘like’ for Cas, as Charlie put it? It was deep friendship. He counted Cas a brother. He told Cas more than he’d ever told anyone, and Cas had confided back. That’s what best friends do. Nothing romantic about it.

Dean abandoned the bottles and bagged the rest of the trash to take out the next day. If he kept moving he could settle his head. He moved around the living room, folding the blanket Charlie had used and kicking the couch back an inch on one end where it was lined up with the wall.

Their relationship had never been anything but friends. Dean’s very first clue that Cas had been interested was the letters. Sure, he’d thought about it from his side vaguely over the years. Cas was attractive and the connection between them-

“No. Fuck no,” he hissed. Dean scrubbed his hands over his face. Cas was his friend. His best friend. So what if there had been little crushes on each other along the way? That happened sometimes--it didn’t mean they were meant to be.

And Cas could come back ready to move on. He had Anna and Balthazar--hell, he could get his own place easy enough. Dean sat on the couch,  searching for anything left to do in the little place, but there was nothing left but the goddamn boxes lining the walls.

The bedroom wasn’t any better. Cas’s box of letters mocked him on his nightstand. Dean smashed the lid back on and slid the box under Cas’s bed. He never should have read them, and he swore to himself that he wasn’t going to touch that box ever again.

Dean went back for the bottle of Jack he’d bought earlier in the week. Seemed like the right occasion.

 

***

 

The phone rang and Dean rubbed his head deeper into the pillow. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. Dean pulled the blankets higher over his shoulders and past his ears as he let the phone ring. He could call back later, but all he wanted in that moment was oblivion. He drifted off again until the phone rang again.

Dean reached blindly for the table, patting around for the phone while he tried to wake up enough to speak. The ringing stopped by the time he got it to his ear.

“Fuck.”

Both calls were from Sam. No messages.

Dean closed his eyes again, but it was a lost cause. No way he could get back to sleep a third time. It was late enough, and he had shit to do around the apartment, but he didn’t want to get up. A splitting headache kept him firmly glued to the mattress.

The phone rang again and he answered.

“Fucking stop calling already.”

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Charlie called this morning and said you had a rough night.”

“What the fuck,” Dean muttered. He forced his bloodshot eyes open. “Why would she say that? We watched a movie.”

“She didn’t give me any details, but she sounded worried.”

“I’m fine.” Dean cleared his throat.

Sam laughed, but he didn’t sound happy. “You know, you keep saying that.”

“What do you want, Sam?”

“You want to come over for dinner?”

“Am I some kind of charity case to you guys? Movie night and dinner and Charlie insisting on coming over--I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No one thinks you do. It’s just--you’re alone until Cas gets back and that kind of sucks.”

“I’m fine,“ Dean spit back. Now that he knew what was happening he could defend against it: turn down the invites, avoid the calls.

“Dean…” Sam said his name like there might be more words to follow, but then he sighed loudly and Dean knew he’d won. At least for the moment.

“I’m calling you tomorrow,” Sam said.

“Whatever.”

Dean ended the call and rolled onto his back. Sam was a pain in the ass, and mostly he missed the kid--but not when he went into parent mode. Funny how Dean raised him for a lot of years before they got settled with Bobby and Ellen but now that they were adults Sam was the one who acted like the parent.

He sat up and his head went from aching to throbbing. Dean pushed through it to get up and to the bathroom. If he had to be awake he wanted to get moving.

 

***

 

Dean came home with bookshelves he knew Cas would like. If Cas was going to live there Dean wanted Cas to like them too. And if he wasn’t, well--Dean liked them well enough. Or Sam would take them. They were solid wood with a dark finish and hard to get into the building. Dean dumped the boxes in the middle of the living room and opened one on its end. This was easy. Step one, two, three, and if you got lost along the way a good dose of common sense could carry you through to the end of the project. The thing with Cas, however-

Dean stopped himself. Cas never told him about his crush. Keeping it secret that long was as good as a flat out lie. There were a hundred times he could have brought it up over the course of their relationship and they would have laughed it off together, but he never did. A little voice whispered something about Dean never doing the same for Cas, but he shoved that down quick. It wasn’t the same; he wasn’t the one who built their relationship on a lie from the beginning.

The shelves went together smoothly, each piece fitting together as it was meant to. Dean didn’t realize how much he needed the mindless construction until it was finished and pride swelled in his chest. He moved the first one into place against the wall and stood back to admire it. The bookcase fit so perfectly between the corner and the window.

Dean had just ripped open the cardboard of the second box when his phone rang. He prepared to rip Sam a new one, but it was Anna. His hands shook as it rang again. If something happened to Cas she’d be the first to know.

“Hello?” He answered, voice rough.

“Dean. Hello. I thought I’d give you a call and see how you’re doing.”

“Is Cas okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah… I guess if you and I are going to talk while he’s gone we should start opening with that.”

“Right,” he said. He pulled pieces from the box quietly. “I’m doing fine. You?”

“Aside from missing him? Fine. Well, and worrying about him, but you know how that is I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean echoed. It felt weird to admit, but that was exactly right. He missed Cas. He worried about him. It was the perfect description of what was going on in his head. Nothing to do with Charlie’s weird interpretation.

“So you’re, uh, doing alright? Anything going on with you?’

“Not really,” Dean answered. Anna had called him precisely once before, and it was after Cas’s stint in the hospital when Cas didn’t answer his phone when she called. “Anna, did Cas ask you to call me?”

She laughed, awkward and unsure.“Not in so many words, but he’s worried about you so I told him I’d check. Is that okay? He’s writing you now, right? I told him he needed to.”

“Yeah, he emailed.” Dean sighed. “You don’t need to check up on me. I’m doing fine.”

“Could you tell Cas that the next time you write him?”

“Okay.” Dean found himself agreeing before his brain could talk his heart out of it.

Anna said her goodbyes and Dean sat for a long time with the beginnings of a second bookcase spread around him on the floor.

 

***

 

He heard someone knocking on the door, but didn’t actually wake up until he heard the lock turn. Sam was already inside with the door closed behind him when Dean sat up on the couch.

“What are you doing here?”

Sam held out a plastic grocery sack. “Brought you some food.”

“Goddamn it, Sam, I told you I don’t need-”

“A babysitter, I know.” Sam set the bag on the counter and pulled out a foil covered plate. “You can yell at Jess. She’s the one that insisted on the food.”

Dean scrubbed his face, hands rough over a couple days of stubbly growth. He dug into his eyes with the heels of his hands. “What do you want?”

Sam brought an uncovered plate to Dean, complete with a fork and handed it to him before he went back for his own plate. “I wanted to talk to you about dad.”

Dean pretended interest in his food: pot roast and mashed potatoes with gravy, with green beans on the side. “Okay,” he said. Sam had a real knack for picking at the things Dean wanted to forget about most.

“I was thinking last night that this might be the last time we see him. It’s been a couple years since the last time and I don’t see this going well either.” Sam paused while he ate a few bites. “Do you think it will?”

“I have no idea why he’s coming here,” Dean said. “I’m prepared for a brawl.”

Sam nodded and ate a little more. “I was thinking about what I want to say to him. Like I’m glad I’m happy in spite of him or something. I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. “I mean, he knows he was a shitty dad to us, so there’s no use saying it, but I think I want to say it out loud. To his face.”

Dean laughed. Every single thought he’d had about John’s impending visit was defensive--how to _react_ in case of verbal attacks or actual physical assault. He hadn’t thought about playing it from the other side where he could take control over the situation. “If you think he’s going to stand there and let you tell him your feelings from the last 22 years of your life you’re an idiot.”

“Not like that, jerk” Sam nudged him with his foot. “Just… most of the time we were with him we just did what he said so it wouldn’t make trouble. But now he knows we can kick his ass if he’s an asshole to us so maybe he’d listen this time.”

“I don’t have much to say and he knows it,”

“Dean, don’t let him get in your head like that. The talking thing…” Sam trailed off.

“No one’s dying. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s okay when it happens, Dean.”

Dean laughed, dry and short, nothing cheerful about it. “Yeah, me going mute at important moments is totally okay.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Sam pursed his lips when Dean didn’t offer a response but continued to  stare at him, daring Dean to contradict him.

“It’s just a fact, Sam. It’s a thing that happens and he--”

“You couldn’t help it and he made you think it was a problem,” Sam said.

“When you have to go to a fucking therapist to fix it it’s a problem.”

“I know,” Sam said, voice soft. “Do you ever see her any more?”

“No.” Dean looked down into his food. He lifted a bite to his mouth and chewed mechanically. He knew how to keep doing the right thing, the thing he was supposed to do.

“Hey, I didn’t come here to make you feel worse. And you don’t have to say anything to dad. I just thought I’d tell you that I have things to say and now might be the time. You never know when it might be the last time you see someone.”

“Don’t get morbid.” Dean said, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach.

“It’s not morbid, just… fact. Like you said. It just _is_. Maybe we need to take advantage of this to tell him what we really think.”

“Do what you want, Sam, but that’s just ammunition for him. Maybe if he actually cared what we thought it would mean something.”

They ate in silence, both of them keeping their eyes down.

“I wish he’d tell us more about mom,” Sam said.

“Sammy, she was…” Dean swallowed hard. “She loved us. That’s all we really need to know.”

“You think dad was different before the fire?”

“Probably.”

Sam leaned back, his empty plate settled in his lap. “Fine. I’ll do the talking and if he so much as hints about that being a problem I’ll kick him out.”

Dean laughed. It was a real laugh this time,  and when the feeling passed guilt set in right behind it.

“It’ll be okay, Sammy. We’ll do it together and it’ll be okay.”

Dean washed the dishes before he sent Sam back home with the instructions to thank Jess for her cooking. He could cook, but didn’t see the point in a more elaborate meal when it was just him in the apartment.

The pieces of the second bookcase mocked him from the living room floor, but he pushed them into the same spot in his head where he put all the boxes. Now that he’d lived surrounded by them for a few weeks he hardly saw them any more.

Dean’s phone pinged as he brushed his teeth and when he checked it he smiled. Email from Benny.

 

> _Hey man- just letting you know I got dinged today. No big deal- a little flesh wound on my upper arm. Patched up and a couple days rest before I get back out there. Don’t tell Andrea. No need for her to worry more than she already does._
> 
> _Cas is antsy about you. Write him soon_.

Dean pulled out his laptop. Swiping on the little phone keyboard was too complicated for more than a sentence or two. He typed up a quick response, a reminder to be careful, to rest up, and no--of course he wouldn’t tell Andrea. That would totally evolve into a “kill the messenger” sort of scenario and he wasn’t about to make himself the messenger. He didn’t write what he really wanted to though-- _don’t die out there, come home in one piece._

He clicked back to his inbox after he replied to Benny, and Cas’s familiar “hotwings” address displayed at the top, message unopened. The address had been meant as a joke a few years earlier, but Cas was Cas and he missed the joke entirely. Dean explained again and again, but Cas quickly adapted to using the “hotwings” address as his primary. Almost four years later and it still made Dean shake his head and smile every time he saw it.

Dean opened Cas’s message and took a deep breath before he read it.

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I know we just wrote each other, but I look forward to hearing from you again. Even though I have Benny and Balthazar it’s not the same as being at home with you and Sam. I miss your interpretation of events. Benny had a somewhat close call today. I’m sure he’ll downplay it. He said he’s going to write you. Just don’t tell Andrea._
> 
> _Charlie said you made Friday night a regular movie night. I want to join in when I get back._
> 
> _Sam said you haven’t heard a definite date from your dad yet. Maybe he’ll wait long enough that I can be there too. I hate the idea of you and Sam facing him alone._
> 
> _I have a lot to tell you but don’t really have the time to type it all out. I look forward to getting back home so I can actually talk to you. It’s strange being surrounded by people all the time but feeling lonely because of how much I miss you and Sam._
> 
> _Cas_

_Shit._ What was he supposed to say back to that? Dean knew homesickness when he read it, and all it did was make him miss Cas more. He was supposed to be mad at Cas. Cas had hidden his feelings for a long time and that lie had felt giant earlier in the day. But reading Cas’s words now softened Dean at the edges and made him ache for Cas to just come home.

 

> _Cas,_
> 
> _Benny told me about it. I’ll let Benny deliver the news to Andrea personally and then we can pray over whatever is left of his body._
> 
> _Think of ideas for movie night, and no arguing with anyone when you get there. When Charlie and Kevin argued Jess picked The Notebook._
> 
> _I have things to tell you too. I guess we’ll catch up on the big stuff in a few months._
> 
> _Be careful._
> 
> _Dean_

Dean checked for any other new messages before he logged out and set the computer aside. Benny’s incident was worrisome, but the idea that it could have been Cas sent Dean’s heart racing. Images flicked through his head--all the possible ways that Cas could be injured or worse--Dean closed his eyes in an attempt to control it, but an involuntary shudder ran through his body.

Charlie was right. Benny and Cas were two of his closest friends--brothers really. But when he thought about Cas there was this urgency inside him to get Cas home, to protect him, to… Dean squeezed his head between his hands. He wanted Cas to be home so he could hold him close and know without a doubt that he was alright.

Dean had to lay on his stomach to find the box he’d shoved under Cas’s bed. Once he fished it out he rolled to sit right there, leaning back against Cas’s bed for support.

Just one. He’d read one letter, and then he’d put them back and never look at them again.

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _It’s Thanksgiving and we’re at Bobby and Ellen’s. You said I should come this year since Anna is going to meet her boyfriend’s parents._
> 
> ~~_This is ridiculous_ ~~
> 
> _~~just write it and throw it away~~ _
> 
> _1\. This is a really long drive. I’m going to convince you to fly next time._
> 
> _2._ _Your car has terrible gas mileage. See above._
> 
> _We’re driving home right now actually. Sam told me when we left that you wouldn’t let me drive. He was right. Sam’s been asleep for hours and you’ve been driving and singing and trying to get me to sing along in the back seat. You know I don’t sing, but you keep insisting._

There was some space down the page, and then much sloppier handwriting in the next paragraph.

 

> _I’m writing this down to get it out of my head. I haven’t written you like this in a couple years, but AGAIN I have things to say to you that i won’t tell you in person, so… there you go. I’m a giant coward. I talk to you all the time and I’ve shared a room with you for two years so you’d think we’d talk, but Dean Winchester doesn’t talk. And I just write you letters and keep them hidden in the middle of Anna’s. That’s about even._
> 
> _I’m jealous of your family._
> 
> _If I told you that you’d probably punch me in the face, so I’m writing it down._
> 
> _I know your mom died and your dad is a jackass, but Bobby and Ellen and Sam are amazing._
> 
> _Ellen is nice in her own way. You told me she was and I believed you, but it’s different seeing her in action. Bobby was just like you described. He didn’t say it, but he was happy to see you. He watched you and Sam walking around and then he and Ellen looked at each other a certain way. It’s hard to describe. But they were happy you were there. They didn’t seem to mind me either._
> 
> _Your dad was supposed to come and didn’t show. I couldn’t tell if you were happy or not. You certainly didn’t seem surprised. After what you and Sam have told me about him I’m not sure why you wait on him any more. I don’t think anyone can please their father. We are always wrong; they are always right. Our fathers hate us because we know who they really are. I got the money-mad executive and you got the gaslighting manipulator. They both tried to mold us after themselves and abandoned us when we figured out the truth. Nothing we can do about that. I’ve been happier since I walked away from my father. Maybe you would be too._

Dean read it again.

Cas was family. Had been for a long time.

But Dean knew that everything was different now. Reading the old letters, Cas’s emails, the way his heart pounded when he realized that maybe Cas felt the same… He saw Cas differently because of it, and even if he couldn’t say it out loud yet, he knew nothing could ever be the same between them again.


	6. Letter #8 and #9

Dean slammed the door on his way in, tossed his keys on the counter, and stripped clothes off once he hit the bedroom. He’d finally decided to do the adult thing and parked a laundry basket next to the bedroom door instead of hanging dirty things over whatever he happened to be standing next to. Dean dropped his t-shirt in there and undid his pants as he made his way into the bathroom. He flipped the water on to warm up before he stepped in. He finished undressing, fishing his cell phone out for one last email check before he stepped in.

He couldn’t help it. Cas was emailing him every couple days now--nothing much, just general comments on his life. He teased Benny in those messages and sometimes mentioned things Jess, Sam, Charlie, or Kevin had said in their emails. It almost felt like Cas and Benny were back home.

Cas wrote easily. Dean, on the other hand, agonized over every word. He never felt sure which words to choose under normal circumstances, but now it felt like any word could betray the thin line between friendship and _something else_. Dean didn’t want to cross it. Not while Cas was over there.

Maybe not even when he got back.

Dean stepped under the spray and soaped up, eager to scrub his shitty day at the garage off of him. He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with this. On paper it was simple and if Cas was anyone else he would’ve already made a move. But it didn’t seem like Cas felt that way any more. They were obviously friends-- _good_ friends, close friends--but the crush hints had dropped out of his letters pretty quick. Dean had resisted the urge to read more for several weeks. It was easier to do now that Cas was emailing  regularly, and if it was just more of the same kind of letter in that box, Dean didn’t need to read any more. He felt guilty enough and the letters weren’t going to change anything.

Dean dried quickly and checked the time. He had a half hour until he had to leave: plenty of time to get himself together. All Dean wanted to do was lock the door behind him for the weekend, but everyone was expecting him for movie night. Sam agreed to back off if Dean showed up without being harassed and responded to texts regularly. Dean wasn’t about to miss a movie night and risk Sam turning overly parental again. He was pulling on his boots when he saw Cas’s box in the middle of the perfectly made bed, right where Dean had left it a few weeks earlier when he’d resolved to be done with them.

Dean checked his phone again.

No messages, and time on his hands.

The lid came off easy, and he found his place again, pulling the next letter out. He just wanted to know if Cas said anything about the crush again. If there was something there maybe it would help him figure out what to do next. Dean flipped the lip of the envelope open and took out the letter.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _Ellen died a few days ago._
> 
> _You haven’t spoken since we got the call. Sam told me a little bit about your history. I would have asked you, but you need to be quiet right now. I understand. I’m trying to be with you and do what I can to let you know you aren’t alone. I sat with you the night before the funeral and I didn’t know what to say. I held onto you because I didn’t know how to help. I hope that was what you needed._
> 
> _I still don’t know what to do for you. We’re here until tomorrow and then we’ll drive back. I thought some time you might let me drive Baby because you trusted me, but turns out it’s because you needed me to get you up here quickly. I was happy to do it, though. Whatever you need me to do I’m here._
> 
> _I’m so sorry. I said it several times to you already but it doesn’t seem like enough. I’m trying to show it in other ways. I can’t imagine the loss you feel._
> 
> _I hope I’m doing something for you. I hope that you’ll want to talk again--at least to me or Sam. And if not we’ll both be fine with that. I mean, I’m kind of afraid to never hear your voice again, but if this is what you need I’ll get used to it with you._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Cas_

 

The memory of Cas holding him on the couch as he cried over his second mother was one he had shoved down hard. He had needed it. He had needed someone to keep him together when his insides were screaming over the injustice of it all. Dean told himself back then that it would have been the same if it had been Sam holding him, but now he wondered if that was where it all started between them--at least on Dean’s side.

Dean read the letter again, dwelling on Cas’s signature and sign off. _Love, Cas_. But Cas was feeling bad for Dean, with Ellen gone then. The love had to be born out of Cas’s sympathy. No way it was a romantic expression of that word.

Dean replaced that letter and started to put the lid back on the box. He paused. If Cas went back to the simple sign off with his name in the next letter Dean could know for sure what it meant. A simple clarification was all he needed.

Dean pulled out the next letter, took a deep breath, and opened it.

 

>  
> 
> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I’m afraid I’m talking too much to you lately. I’m trying to be quieter, but I have this strange need to fill the space you used to occupy. I’ve never been much of a talker, but with you going silent it feels necessary to keep saying what I’m thinking. I’m trying to follow your lead._
> 
> _It has been almost a month now. You say a few words here and there when you need to. I guess you’re talking some at work now? But when you get home you’re retreating to our room. Sam and I try to make you eat first at least, but you’re tired. I get it. On your days off we’ve been watching movies, and I’ve been providing the commentary that would normally come from you. I got you to smile once._
> 
> _A couple days ago Sam talked to you about a therapist he found and you took that as well as I thought you would. You still won’t look him in the eye. He really is trying to help. We’re going to try to talk you into it after you’ve had a little time to think about it._
> 
> _I’m concerned that you took your father’s words at the funeral to heart. You can’t trust anything he says. He’s completely wrong about you. He thinks he knows you, but you’ve grown up and beyond him. I doubt he’ll ever understand that._
> 
> _Dean, I will always be here for you. I can’t imagine anything that might pass between us that would change our friendship at this point. You are the closest I have ever been to anyone. Best friend is a true term but not entirely accurate. There’s something between you and I that is deeper, at least on my side._
> 
> _I hope to get your words back some day._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Cas_

 

“Fuck,” Dean muttered as he swiped at his face. He hadn’t bargained on tears. He didn’t want to remember the weeks after Ellen died, and not the way it must have looked to Cas. In therapy Pamela had insisted his reaction was fine. Retreating for a time to make a way to cope and process was okay--healthy even. But Dean remembered the way Sam looked at him, helpless and sympathetic. And Cas--Dean hadn’t realized it at the time, but Cas “filled the space” just like he’d written in his letter. Dean had needed that and Cas stepped in as naturally as breathing. Something pulled in Dean’s chest at the thought.

And there it was again: _love, Cas_. Dean told himself it didn’t mean anything. Cas got confused and closed the letter that way out of habit from writing his sister. And it was almost two years old. A declaration of love from two years earlier wasn’t enough evidence to act. Dean folded the letter carefully before sliding it into the envelope. He filed it in place and pulled out the next one, sure that it would go back to the generic openings and conclusions from previous letters.

Dean’s phone buzzed next to him.

**Sam: on your way?**

Dean checked the time and mumbled a curse. He was going to be late now. He tucked the envelope back in the box and left it all there on his bed. He grabbed his jacket on the way out and hoped his red eyes would clear by the time he got to Sam and Jess’s place.

 

***

 

Sam didn’t say anything when Dean walked in, but the sad puppy dog eyes communicated enough worry and disappointment to make Dean squirm under the scrutiny.

Jess hugged him. “Hey. Did you get the schedule I sent?”

“Yeah. Kevin’s choice this week.” Dean followed her to the kitchen. He’d acted as her snack prep partner each week, but everything was already done. Dean helped her carry the last few things out to the coffee table and then found a place next to Charlie on the couch. She smiled at him, but her expression changed as _Independence Day_ started.

“You okay?” Charlie whispered.

“Yeah,” Dean hissed back, eyes fully on the screen. He had a fleeting thought about telling her everything, but that sent his heart racing. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, earning a loud “Shhhhh!” from Kevin.

Listening to Charlie and Kevin tease back and forth about the tech in the movie made Dean laugh and took his mind off of Cas long enough to actually relax for awhile. But then Russell Casse flew his plane into a city destroyer to sacrifice himself, and all Dean could think about was how Cas would do the same. If his unit got in a bad situation Cas’d be the first one to do what he had to to save everyone else. How many times had he talked about being one of the few single guys in the unit?

Dean jumped up and went to the kitchen, pacing back and forth on the laminate floor. _It’s a fucking alien movie. Cas is fine_. He knew that, but for some reason, it felt too close to what Cas was doing. There had been close calls--Benny for christ’s sake--and it was too much to think about. He breathed and paced and messed up his hair when he ran his fingers through it, and the breathing thing started to work.

“Hey,” Sam said behind him and Dean startled. “Everything alright?” He held up the empty popcorn bowl. “I was just coming back in to see if there was a refill.”

Dean nodded and watched Sam hunt around their cabinets, but ultimately set the bowl in the sink. He flipped through a hundred things he could say and decided to go for it. “Can we not, uh... no more war movies?”

Sam’s eyebrows twitched, but he nodded. “Yeah. Sure. You want to switch now?”

“No--let Kevin finish his pick. I just… with Cas gone--and Benny and Balthazar, you know,” Dean hastened to add the last two names.

“I get it. They’ll be home soon. What is it--four months now?”

 _Three months, three weeks and four days_. Dean looked down. “Something like that. It’ll probably get changed anyway.”

“But then they’ll be back. Is Cas still writing pretty frequently?”

 _He doesn’t know,_ Dean told himself. _He’s just asking to make sure I’m not just sitting in the apartment lonely every night._ He wasn’t ready to tell Sam everything. He would sometime, or at least the fact that he and Cas were together if that ever happened. _Or maybe now…_ but his body rebelled and he gave in. No way he could tell Sam yet.

“We send a few lines back and forth every couple days,” Dean said. “Benny too. I haven’t sent anything to Balthazar, but he hasn’t sent anything to me either so I figure that’s fair.”

Sam nodded along and then smiled. Dean had no idea why, but he offered a thin smile back. ”Good,” Sam said. “It helps them a lot to stay connected to us while they’re gone for so long.”

“I know,” Dean said.

Sam motioned to the living room with his head. “I’m going back in. You want to come?”

“I’ll, uh, hold down the fort in here if that’s okay.”

Sam patted him on the back before he went back to the living room. Dean sat at the little kitchen table and checked for messages from Cas.

Still nothing.

He crossed his arms in front of him on the table and laid his head down on them, the phone nestled where he could see it in case an email from Cas did come through. Hadn’t he always mocked Sam for burying his head in his phone when he and Jess first got together? And now he and Cas weren’t even a thing but there he was, constantly on the lookout for anything Cas might send his way.

Charlie joined him a few minutes later. “You alright?”

“That’s all anyone ever asks me,” Dean said.

“Well, you look miserable.” She sat down opposite him. “Is Cas still writing?”

“Yeah, every couple days.”

Charlie smiled. “Good. That’s good, Dean.”

He nodded. It was, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Hell--he didn’t even know exactly what he wanted, but Cas halfway around the world with irregular internet access wasn’t it.

“Do you need some help unpacking?”

 _Tell her. She already pretty much knows._ Dean’s knee popped up and down at a rapid pace under the table. Telling her meant admitting that he’d read Cas’s letters and he didn’t want anyone to know about that one. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. You want to come over?”

“Tonight? Sure. I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow.”

And then they were up and getting their coats on, saying goodbyes and walking out to their cars together. Dean slid in behind the wheel of the Impala and his hands shook as he turned the key in the ignition. He didn’t have to say anything. She’d help him unpack a few boxes and she’d go home for the night. No big deal.

But then they walked in and Charlie threw her coat over the arm of the couch, put her hands on her hips and asked, “Where do you want me to start?”

“I really fucked up, Charlie.” The words tumbled out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop them, and his head started to pound.

“What do you mean?”

“With Cas.” Dean paced the room, Charlie watching him with widening eyes. “I--I there are these letters I read, but they’re Cas’s and… shit.”

“Okay. Calm down.” Charlie said. “Letters from Cas. Like his emails?”

“No.” Dean let out a frustrated sound and went to his room to retrieve the box. “Here,” he said when he got back. Charlie accepted the box and started from the front, flipping through envelopes.

“They say your name on them.”

“Yeah, but I found them when we moved. He didn’t give them to me.”

Charlie nodded. “There’s a lot of them.”

“Eighteen written to me. The rest are from Anna.”

“But he never sent them to you?”

“No. I found them and I started reading them. Fuck… I know I shouldn’t have done it but I read some of them and-”

“Wait a second. You found the box when you moved, you saw they were addressed to you and you read them.”

“Yes. Well, not all of them, but enough.”

Charlie laughed. “You haven’t read them all yet? I would have plowed through those in twenty minutes.”

“I don’t know--it was kind of funny at first because he said he had a crush on me when we first met, but then he wrote about meeting Bobby and Ellen, and… and Ellen’s funeral and I realized…”

“Oh.” Charlie put a hand on his knee and Dean stared at her fingers. “What did you realize?”

Dean swallowed audibly and took a shuddering breath before he answered. “I think… I think I’ve liked him for a while and this whole thing--” Dean covered his face like he could hold himself together with those hands. “I shouldn’t have read them. It’s messing with my head. I mean, him writing _love, Cas_ at the end of letters _he never sent_ two years ago doesn’t mean he loves me now. It doesn’t even mean he loved me then. It’s just a saying, right? You just write that on the end of letters.”

“Can I read them?” Charlie asked.

Dean wiped his face and sniffed. “If you can live with the guilt. I sure as hell can’t.”

Charlie started with the first one and Dean watched her move methodically through each one, respectfully returning each letter to its envelope before she moved on. She smiled in some places and shook her head in others, declaring one part to be “so Cas”. Then she got to the two that Dean had read just that evening and a somber calm settled on her face. She folded the ninth letter--the last one Dean had read--and reached for the tenth.

“Hey--no more than that. That’s where I stopped.”

“Are you serious?”

“You’re okay with reading Cas’s private letters?”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Then don’t read any more, okay? I already feel bad enough. And I’m going to have to tell him. That’s not--that’s not what I wanted to say to him when he got home.”

“Then don’t. Wait until he gets settled back in. Ask him about the box and then go from there. Maybe It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be.”

“How would he ever trust me after this? You can’t build a relationship on a big lie like that.”

Charlie blinked at him. “Relationship? You’re thinking relationship with Cas?”

Dean’s cheeks heated and he looked away again. “He’s not going to forgive this, Charlie.”

“You need to set up a call with him. You two need to talk face to face and you need to tell him how you feel. And you have to let him say what he actually thinks instead of assuming he’ll be mad.”

“Charlie-”

“Dean, you can’t decide for Cas.”

He knew she was right, but he wasn’t sure he could do it. “If I tell him it’ll ruin everything.”

“Maybe. You don’t know that. But if you do tell him you might get a boyfriend out of it.”

Dean hadn’t really thought that far, but Charlie put the word in his head-- _boyfriend_. Him and Cas. “I don’t think he feels the same way any more.”

“Wanna read the rest of the letters?” Charlie asked. “When do they leave off?”

“No. I already feel bad enough.”

“You might as well read them all at this point.”

“Charlie-”

“I’ll read them for you.”

Dean was tempted to take her up on it, but then he’d have to tell Cas and… “I said no, okay? It’s Cas’s stuff.”

Charlie nodded, and put everything back in place including the lid. “Get your computer. Email him now and ask for a call.”

“He might not be able to.”

“Stop making excuses.” She handed him the box.

Dean left the box on Cas’s bed and grabbed his laptop. His sat next to Charlie on the couch, trying to keep his nerves in line.

“What do I say?” he asked as he logged into his email.

“Just ask if he can skype some time.”

Dean glared at her. “Obviously, but-” He sighed. “He’s going to know something’s up. Why else would I be asking him to skype?”

“Just say you want to talk.” Charlie’s smile softened. “For what it’s worth I don’t think Cas will be upset.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean said. He frowned at the screen as he typed.

 

>  
> 
> _Cas,_
> 
> _I was wondering if maybe you’d want to talk on skype sometime soon. I want to talk to you about something and it would be better if we can see each other._
> 
> _Dean_

 

He showed it to Charlie and she frowned. “That sounds like you’re going to tell him something bad.”

“I _am_ telling him something bad, Charlie.”

“No, you’re going to tell him how you feel about him. The letter thing can wait. Tell him how you feel and see what happens.”

Dean sighed heavily and stared at the screen while he tried to think of a better way to reword the message.

“Maybe at the end say something like, ‘It would be nice to see you face to face,” Charlie suggested.

Dean erased and typed, then repeated the process until he got the words right.

 

>  
> 
> _Cas,_
> 
> _I was wondering if we can talk on skype sometime soon. It would be nice to see your face for once._
> 
> _Dean_

 

Charlie looked over his shoulder and approved. “Send it and we’ll see what he says.”

“You better hope you’re right about this.”

“I know you and I know Cas,” Charlie said with a grin. “I think it’ll work out just fine.”

Dean read over the lines again, took a deep breath and sent it.

“I’m blaming you if this goes to shit.”

Charlie laughed. “Go for it, Winchester.” 


	7. Breathe

Dean paced the length of the living room. He’d put most of the boxes in the kitchen where they could hide behind the tall counter that divided the kitchen from the living room and now the place seemed empty. He didn’t realize how much space the boxes had taken up until they were gone. He hid a few boxes in the bathtub too. With the shower curtain over the front Cas would never know they were there on his skype tour. The bathroom was clean, the beds were made, errant laundry had all made it into the basket--everything was ready. So why was he so fucking nervous?

Dean rubbed his sweating palms down the legs of his jeans and sat on the couch. He centered his laptop on the coffee table, perfecting the angle as if that little adjustment would make all the difference in his conversation with Cas. And what was that going to be? _Cas, I just realized I’m in love with you and I really wish you were here?_

 _Stupid. Fucking stupid._ Dean leaned forward, elbows on knees, and stared down at the floor. _Cas, I miss you. I think I like you. When you get home can we go out some time?_ Bullshit. No matter how he said it it ended up all wrong.

“This is why you don’t say this shit out loud,” he muttered.

Dean double checked the time of the skype call in the email from Cas and then the actual time. He checked the computer again, making sure everything was ready to accept Cas’s call. Volume turned up, logged in to skype, any minute now. He stood up--he had to or he’d vibrate straight through the couch with all the anxiety he was trying to control.

The phone rang and Dean frowned at the unexpected call. “What the hell, Sam? Cas is going to call any time.”

“I know, but I, uh--look. I’m sorry, and this is bad timing, but Dad called and he’s on his way in.”

Dean didn’t say anything at first, just closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “When?” he finally asked.

“Couple hours maybe. I wasn’t sure how long your call with Cas would go and I didn’t want to blindside you half an hour before he got here.”

“Okay. It’s okay, Sammy.” Dean looked between the computer and his jacket hanging next to the door. “So, uh, I’ll head over to your place after this.”

“I’m really sorry, man. Any day but today would have been better for you, but Dad does what he wants.”

“Yeah,” Dean said faintly. The ringtone for an incoming skype call went off on his computer and his heart jumped into action, beating a hundred miles a minute. “I gotta go. Cas is calling.”

“Go. I’ll see you soon.”

Dean accepted Cas’s call and straightened himself up in front of the computer. Cas sat in a non-descript room, plain t-shirt stretched over his chest and the smile on his face brighter than Dean ever remembered it being at home.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Dean.” His smile stretched wider and Dean’s heart thumped in his throat. It was just Cas, just-- “It’s good to see your face,” Cas said. “You let your hair grow.”

Dean touched his gelled hair before he remembered he’d actually done something with it. “Oh, yeah, just… haven’t had the time for a cut lately.”

“I like it,” Cas said. “It suits you.”

All Dean could hear was the sound of his own saliva, his blood pulsing in his head, how loud he inhaled. Cas grinned at him like nothing was wrong. “Thanks,” Dean finally spit out.

“A few more months and I’ll be back. I can’t wait to see you. And everyone else too.”

“Yeah. We miss you around here.”

“Well, I’m glad we could arrange a call.” Cas said. “Is that the new place behind you?”

“Yeah!” Dean grabbed the laptop and jumped up. “Let me show you around.” He went to the front door and turned the computer slowly to give Cas a sweeping view of the living room and into the kitchen over the counter.

“You got everything unpacked okay?”

Dean was glad the camera was off of him as his face flushed what had to be a glowing red from the heat of it. “I didn’t open any of your boxes. They’re stacked in the bedroom.”

“It looks pretty good, Dean.”

Dean smiled and the embarrassment he'd felt only a moment earlier vanished. “Thanks, Cas.”

He showed Cas the bathroom then slowly scanned the bedroom for him. Cas laughed and Dean turned the camera back on himself with an uneasy smile as he walked back to the couch. “What?” he asked.

“You made my bed the right way.”

“Damn right I did.” Dean’s smile widened. “You bitched at me for ages about those corners.”

“It’s for your own good,” Cas said sincerely, but then he broke into a laugh and Dean grinned like a fool. Dean found relief in the familiarity of Cas’s expressions, but as familiar as they were Dean felt like he was seeing Cas for the first time. Dean enjoyed the exhilaration that came with pursuing a potential date, but this time the nerves failed to bolster his usual bravado. He attempted to say something again and looked down when he couldn’t get any words together.

“So why’d you ask for the call?” Cas asked. “I mean, I’m happy just to see you, but you had me a little worried--I wondered if there was a reason.”

“Uh, you know. The… um…” Dean blinked and tried to collect himself, but he couldn’t think of anything but Cas’s goddamn eyes following him everywhere.

“Is everything alright?” Cas asked, his voice turned somber.

“Yeah. Yeah! I mean, I just wanted to… to see you and talk.” Dean forced his fingers through the gelled hair he’d already mussed earlier. He faked a smile and looked at his own little picture on the screen instead of Cas.

“Hey, did I see bookshelves?”

“Yeah.” Dean stood up again and turned the camera on the bookshelves he’d assembled. He’d finished the second one the night before. “Good solid wood, and they fit perfectly around the window.”

“They look nice. Hey, move me closer.”

Dean obliged, slowly scanning a couple shelves of titles.

Cas laughed. “ I see I’ll have to reorganize them when I get home. You didn’t subdivide.”

“Oh no,” Dean said. “Plain old alphabetical order. That’s it.”

“You have to subdivide into genres before you alphabetize.”

“Oh, come on! No subdividing.” Dean said.

“I’ll do it when I get home.”

“Don’t you touch those fucking bookshelves,” Dean warned and Cas burst out in a laugh that made Dean smile.

“Please tell me the DVDs are organized by genre.”

Dean turned the camera for him to see. “Charlie borrowed some, so there’s a couple gaps.”

“They look pretty good. I’ll fix the books when I get back.”

Dean turned the camera back on himself. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“Where’s the keyboard? I didn’t see it. And your guitar?”

 _Still packed up._ “Uh, I didn’t know where to put everything. You’re the one that likes to rearrange things.”

“You haven’t played anything since the move?”

Dean ducked his head. “I’m busy, man. I-”

“It’s okay. I was just asking.” Cas dropped the teasing voice he’d used before.

“There’s some stuff still in boxes, but, you know--it’ll be done by the time you get back.”

“No rush. I can help when I get there.”

Dean took a deep breath “You’re coming back here right? Like staying with me? I mean, if you have other places--somewhere else you wanna go-”

Cas frowned. “Of course I’m staying with you.”

Dean nodded as if he knew that all along, but the weight of uncertainty was gone. “Good. Okay, I need you to find the right places for stuff.”

Cas chuckled and Dean reveled in the sound. “Sure. I’ll get it exactly right when I get back.”

“Good.” Dean smiled at him. God, he fucking missed him, and talking to him like this made one thing very clear: it was like Cas never left, and Dean never wanted him to leave again. The thought hit him with an intensity he hadn’t anticipated. He tried to collect words to fill the silence.

“Hey--I got the turntable set up, and all the albums organized.” Dean turned the camera toward the neatly filed music. It was the exact same way he’d set them up at the old place, but he was still proud of how his collection looked all together.

“I swear I won’t touch them.”

Dean laughed as he he turned the camera back on himself. “Exactly. No one messes with my music.”

“Everyone knows that by now I think.” Cas grinned. “Everything going well at the garage?”

“Yeah. I mean, I got yelled at the other day for being on my phone too much. But Crowley is Crowley.”

“Why? I thought you kept it in your locker.”

“I usually do, but I--I keep checking for your emails.”

“Don’t get in trouble at work for me,” Cas said, something in his eyes softening.

“I won’t. I just never know when you’re going to get the chance to write and I want to catch it as soon as I can.”

Cas looked down, a shy endearing gesture Dean hadn’t seen before. The angle emphasized the strong line of his jaw and his profile--the smooth line of his nose and the curve of his lips. Dean’s tongue flicked over his lower lip. Why hadn’t he seen Cas like this before?

“So what are you doing today?” Cas asked, looking straight into the camera.

 _Oh, Shit._ Dean had forgotten it all once he started talking to Cas, but he still had his father to deal with. “Actually, Sam called right before you. Dad’s on his way in, so I guess we’re doing that this afternoon.”

Cas leaned back in his seat and the picture shifted like the connection had weakened, but then it popped back to live action, Cas’s exasperation clear as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I hoped it was just him talking and he’d never actually come. Or wait long enough that I could be there.”

“I know you did. It’ll be fine. Jess and Sam’ll be there and we’re gonna try to do it somewhere in public.”

“That hasn’t stopped him in the past.”

“So maybe we find a police station parking lot. Jesus Christ, Cas--I don’t know.”

“Hey--I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just want you to be okay.”

Warmth spread through Dean’s chest at Cas’s words and he looked him in the eye as best he could. “I know.”

“Don’t listen to him, okay? Don’t let him get to you. Nothing he says about you is true.”

Dean nodded, unable to say anything back. He knew all of that objectively. Pamela had told him as much, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Cas looked up and over to the side, listening to someone off screen. He nodded and then looked back at Dean. “I’m sorry--I’m going to have to go in a minute.”

“Yeah, I get it. Um--” Dean’s heart started to race. He had to say something before Cas went, but his mouth went dry again and he cursed himself internally.

“A few more months and I’ll be back home,” Cas said. “We’re doing well here, but I’ll be glad to get back home with you.”

 _Home with you._ Dean took a breath. “I miss you,” he said.

Cas’s eyebrows went up. “I miss you too, Dean.”

“I wish--uh, anyway.”

“What, Dean?” Cas looked at him the way he always did--open and ready to listen.

Everything slowed, like Cas was the only thing in the world. _Say it now. Tell him._ “Uh. I just wish you were here.” He hoped Cas couldn’t see how red his face went.

“You just want me to rearrange the bookshelves for you.” Cas grinned and Dean laughed.

“I definitely need you around here.” Dean said. The words were close, but not right.

“I have to go, but maybe we can do this again before I get home.” Cas said.

“Sounds good. We’ll set something up.”

Cas’s eyes lit up. “Say hi to everyone for me.”

“I will.”

“And Dean? Don’t listen to your father.”

“I know,” he said.

Cas said a goodbye and Dean did too, and when the call ended, Dean touched the screen where Cas’s face had been a moment before. Saying goodbye was harder than he thought it would be, and the fact that he hadn’t said everything he set out to say only made it worse. He couldn’t get the words out when it mattered, and now Cas was gone until they could figure out another time to skype.

There was nothing Dean could do to fix it--not right then. He closed the laptop and went to the stacks of boxes he’d hidden in the kitchen. He could at least unpack more. Cas would want that. He opened the box he knew had kitchen utensils. He’d been taking things out of the box as he needed them when he made dinner, but he might as well assign them a place and put them away.

Dean picked a drawer next to the stove and tossed in wooden spoons, spatulas and a ladle. He moved on to silverware and then dishes in the next box to join the pitiful lonely plate he’d been washing and reusing each day. He only needed one. But Cas thought he was essentially unpacked, and Dean was determined to make it so. He worked steadily through the kitchen boxes and threw them into the living room when they were empty. He could break them down later.

Dean checked his phone. There was a text from Charlie reminding him to call her after he finished with Cas, but he couldn’t do it. Not until he wrapped his head around what exactly had happened between them. Talking with Cas was easy and familiar and peaceful until his Dad came up. And sure he’d messed up the whole, _I think I love you; would you go on a date with me sometime_ part, but Cas--god. He looked so fucking happy to see him. Dean smiled to himself. Maybe the next time he could get it together. Write it out even so he didn’t fuck it up.

Someone knocked on the door and Dean went to answer. He looked through the peephole first and backed away instead of unlocking the door.

John Winchester stood on the other side, and he knocked again. “I know you’re home, Dean. The Impala’s a goddamn beacon.”

Dean dialed his brother.

“Hey, how was the call with Cas.?”

“Dad’s here.” Dean tried to slow down. “Dad is knocking on my door right the fuck now.”

“Shit. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t let him in.”

Dean nodded, then realized Sam couldn’t see him. “Okay.”

Sam was saying something to Jess, a subtle panic changing his voice. Dean heard a door slam on the other end and his brother’s heavy breathing as he ran.

“Dean Winchester, open the damn door. I’m your father for chrissake.” John pounded on the door again, three loud thumps.

Dean went back and forth in his head. He needed to wait for Sam. He needed to get his father to shut the hell up so the neighbors wouldn’t call the cops.

“Ignore him, Dean,” Sam said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Someone’s going to report this if he keeps screaming his head off in the hall.”

John pounded the door again a few times.

“Just wait, okay?” Sam demanded. “Talk to him through the door.”

“Dean! Answer the goddamn the door!”

“Sam, someone’s going to call.” Dean paced, panic driving him back and forth across the room.

“Dean, don’t! Just give me a couple minutes and I’ll be there.”

John pounded the door again and called, “Dean! I know you’re in there!”

Dean stopped in place, staring at the door. He had to do something, so he took a deep breath, walked up to the door, and slid the deadbolt.


	8. Conversation

John Winchester looked ten years older than the last time Dean saw him. Gray had taken up permanent residence in his hair, heavy at the temples and peppered throughout the rest. The lines of his face cut more deeply, but his eyes focused in the same relentless glare he always reserved for Dean.

Dean poked his head into the hall and waved at a neighbor he didn’t know who had opened his door. “It’s okay. I just had my music turned up. Didn't hear him. We're cool.” The guy gave him a skeptical look before he went back inside.

Dean looked at his father then. Straightened to his full height they were evenly matched, but John seemed to fill the hallway.

“Going to invite me in?” he asked.

Dean let the question hang between them. Every second Sam got a little closer. “Why are you here?” he finally asked. “We agreed to meet at the park.”

“I wanted to see where my son’s living. Invite me in.”

Dean swallowed but stepped back to allow John’s entrance. John stepped in, boots loud on the scuffed wood floor. Dean swung the door closed, but left it unlatched for Sam. Dean watched his father examine the room with the same cold expression he remembered from childhood.

“Decent place. Still unpacking?” John said.

“Uh, yeah.”

John stalked to the bedroom and Dean followed. John pointed at Cas's bed. “Still have that roommate of yours? Where is he?”

“Deployed.”

John grunted his approval. “You should have enlisted too. Would have learned a lot.” He scanned the room. “One bedroom for the two of you? Thought you had two bedrooms at the old place.”

“Housing is expensive here. Cas and I shared at the other place too.”

“I thought that was you and Sam together.”

“Well, Sam and Jess were dating, so uh-”

John held up a hand and smiled. _Smiled?_ “I understand.” He looked around the bedroom again before he turned back to the living room, and Dean followed him out.

“You know, Kansas has a cheaper cost of living,” John said. “There’s a house just down the street from me where the mortgage payment is less than what you’re paying in rent. Maybe you should consider a change of scenery. I can get you in at a garage there with a buddy of mine. Or you can always come work with me.”

Dean frowned. His father had never offered that kind of help before, but the smile on John’s face was wide and easy, maybe even kind. “I kind of have a life here,” Dean said. “Friends and everything.”

John turned a calculating eye on him. “Hard to have a family in a place like this, though, right? You’re getting a little old to keep living like a bachelor with a roommate.”

“People have families here all the time.”

“In a one bedroom apartment? I doubt it. But if that’s all you can afford I guess that means you’re not ready for a family yet.”

“Not right now.”

“Your mother would have liked grandkids. In fact, she would’ve loved it.”

“I’m sure Sam and Jess will pop some kids out after a while.” _In the one bedroom apartment_ they _live in._

John nodded. “You know, I talked to Sam a few weeks back. This Jess girl seems good for him.”

“She is,” Dean said, relaxing into the conversation. “They’re doing really well. They’re good together.”

“If it’s so expensive why didn’t you stick with your brother? Did you think about getting a place all together?”

“Nah--I heard enough through the wall when they were dating. As much as I love Jess I don’t really need to hear every detail of their marital bliss.”

“Hmm,” John said as he shifted to a slightly wider stance, and crossed his arms over his chest. Dean stiffened in response.

“So what will you do without someone here to do your talking for you?” John asked.

There it was--the barb, the jab, the typical way John spoke to him. Dean swallowed hard. “Sam doesn’t-”

John laughed. “Didn’t Bobby tell you I called?”

“Uh, yeah.” John’s laughter was unnerving, and dread filled Dean again the same way it had when he’d realized John was the one behind the door.

“But Sam was the one that called me back.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I, uh-”

“You never change, do you, Dean? You’ve always needed someone to speak for you. I thought you’d have something to say for yourself now that Sam’s gone.”

“Ever think maybe I just didn’t want to talk to _you_?” Dean spoke before he could think. He tensed, ready for something to happen after that--maybe even hoping--but John just narrowed his eyes and stood still for a long moment.

“Got your sass back too. I thought maybe you’d grown up in the last couple years, especially since Sam’s getting married, but you’re the same hotheaded little bastard you were at sixteen.”

Words jammed up in Dean’s head, all trying to erupt at the same time, but he pressed his lips together and his eyes flared wide as he tried to get something out.

A slow smile grew on John’s face. “Got something to say, Dean? Spit it out.”

He gritted his teeth and tried to at least keep eye contact with his father to let him know he wasn’t winning. Not this time.

John held his gaze long enough to make Dean sweat and then very deliberately diverted his eyes to the room under the guise of touring the apartment. “Let me guess--all these books belong to the roommate. No way you read this much.”

“More than you think,” Dean said, released from the pressure of John’s scrutiny. Sure, Cas had been the one who pushed him to read more, but that didn’t matter.

John stepped closer to the bookcase, scanning titles in each row, but then he paused. “What’s this?”

Cas’s box was on one of the lower shelves, the lid off to the side, envelopes fully visible. Dean didn’t remember putting it there. Was it there when he talked to Cas? _Did Cas see it?_ John reached for the box and Dean darted forward to put himself between the letters and his father.

John laughed. “Got a girlfriend writing you love letters?”

“They belong to Cas. They’re none of your business.”

“I saw your name on it.” John’s eyes narrowed, analyzing his son’s face.

Dean squared his shoulders, daring him to think what he wanted. “I told you, it’s none of your business.” He wanted to get the box out of there, but there was no way he was turning his back on his father on the chance that he might retaliate for what happened at Ellen’s funeral. He’d never hit Dean before, but Dean hadn’t broken his father’s nose before either.

“You’re my son and I have the goddamn right to know what’s going on here.”

“Bullshit. You haven’t had the right since you left us with Bobby and Ellen.”

“Yeah, and that ruined you didn’t it?” John said it like it was the gospel truth. Dean’s temper flared, but John was still talking like he knew it all. “They made you think you’re something bigger than you are, smarter than you are, didn’t they?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean hissed.

“No one knows you as well as I do, Dean, and you’re a damn fuckup. I knew something was wrong with you since you were a kid and it only got worse after Ellen started filling your head with lies about what you are. I’m sorry I ever left you there and let you think you could be something.”

“Don’t-” Dean started.

“Don’t what? Tell you the truth? I doubt you have anyone that does besides me.” John chuckled as he stepped back. “That guy you call a roommate obviously doesn’t.”

“Don’t talk about him-”

John held up a hand. “It’s okay--it took me a while to figure out why you attacked me at the funeral, but, you know--I talked to Bobby and it started to make sense what you think he means to you.” He lowered his hand and pressed his lips together like he was preparing himself to deliver sobering news. “I don’t know what Cas is telling you, son, but he doesn’t actually want you. He’s got you keeping a place for him while he’s gone, he let you do the hard work moving it in here, he’s leaving you alone for months at a time.”

John’s face softened and he sighed. “He’s using you and you’re just not smart enough to see it.” John stepped closer and put a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean stared down at it for a moment then back up at his father.

“It hurts me to see you like this, son,” John said. “Let me do one thing right by you.”

Dean’s heart raced. He was prepared for a fight, not for this. Not for sympathy and concern. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“You’re right. Maybe he’s so nice that he can’t tell you to back the hell off. Maybe he’d rather go off to war than be here with you.”

Dean stepped back and the thick shelves of the bookcase pressed into him. _That wasn’t… Cas didn’t…_ He squeezed his eyes closed and he could every breath as well as the blood rushing through his head.

“You know,” John continued, his voice softening. “You don’t need him. You have a place with me any time you want it. You’re afraid on your own, and I know how that feels. That’s why you’re hanging onto this guy. And he’s just soaking up the attention because you’re desperate for anyone to take you on.”

 _It isn’t that. Cas wouldn’t do that and I…_ but desperate was exactly how Dean felt and he couldn’t push down the _what ifs_ fast enough.

“Say something, Dean. Tell me I’m wrong. Who’s going to take care of you after this guy leaves you?”

Dean breathed in, telling himself Cas wouldn’t just do that--he said he was coming back--but his heart rate went wild and his throat felt tight.

“Dean!” The door swung wide, and Sam was there, crossing the room in a few quick steps to stand between his brother and his father.

“Don’t sound so worried, Sammy. We’re just talking, right Dean?” John said. “You know, father-to-son.”

“You should go. This isn’t what we agreed to,” Sam said.

“Well, I won’t apologize for wanting to visit my boys. And Dean and I needed to talk, right, Dean?”

Sam looked back at Dean, eyebrows raised in silent question. Dean smiled thin and quick. He didn’t need to know what their dad had been saying.

“Did you give him whatever you came here for?” Sam asked.

“Uh, changed my mind on that.” John dug in his pocket for a little pouch. He tugged at the strings and two gold rings tumbled into his open hand. He examined them for a moment before he spoke. “I brought your mother’s rings. Bobby said you’d want them, Dean, but I don’t think you deserve them.” John held the pouch open and dropped the rings back in before tying it up and shoving it back in his pocket. “If you can’t even talk to your own father I find it hard to believe you’d be able to ask someone to marry you--if you could even find anyone to say yes.”

“Get the fuck out,” Sam used his size to his advantage, presenting a menacing figure when he stood up straight and puffed his chest.

John looked him up and down before smiling and raising his hands in surrender. “Congratulations on the upcoming wedding, Sam.” He looked at Dean. “Anything else?”

A million words stacked up and Dean kept his mouth shut.

“Didn’t think so,” John said as he backed up. “You think about it though. It might take you awhile, but you’ll see I’m right. I just hope you figure it out before it’s too late, Dean.”

“Get out,” Sam spat as he followed. “You come back here, I call the cops. No questions asked.”

Dean heard the scuffle of shoes and knew Sam was escorting John out. Words were exchanged, but Dean couldn’t really hear it--he was just trying to keep the room from spinning.

“Dean, whatever he said wasn’t true. Forget everything he said.”

He knew Sam was standing next to him, but he couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t focus, couldn’t hear anything but his father’s goddamn voice…

“Sit down. Come on.” Dean let his brother guide him to the couch, and he drank the water Sam brought him a minute later. He couldn’t look at him.

“What did he say?”

The couch sagged as Sam sat next to him. What was he supposed to say? He misread the thing with Cas? Because Sam didn’t even know anything about there being something possibly between him and Cas.

“Dean?”

“Just the usual bullshit,” he rasped.

“Don’t believe him. I know it’s all going through your head right now, but don’t--don’t give it anywhere to land, okay? Just-”

“Fucking leave it alone,” Dean whispered.

“Okay, but don’t shut me out again.”

Dean nodded. He had prepared himself for acidic comments about everything but Cas. And the thing about his mother’s rings--he hadn’t even known there was anything left of hers. They had a small handful of pictures, but nothing that had really belonged to Mom. If John had brought the rings just to dangle them like a prize to be won… He choked on that thought.

“Dean, breathe, okay? Put your head down.” Sam said.

“I know,” he said softly, and dropped his head between his knees like Cas had taught him.

“I can’t believe he came here. He seemed reasonable on the phone. We should get you another lock on the inside if that would make you feel safer. Maybe you come stay with me and Jess for a few days. Would that be okay?”

“Whatever you want, Sam.” Dean could barely force his voice above a whisper.

“I just--if he comes back and you don’t get a chance to call me-”

“He didn’t try to hurt me, Sammy. I’m the one that punched him last time.”

“But something happened between you two, because you looked like you were going to pass out when I opened that door.”

 _Something._ Sam continued on, but Dean couldn’t focus on him. John’s words circled in his head and crowded every part of his brain.

“Can we just go?” Dean’s voice came out husky.

“Yeah. You want to pack a bag?”

Dean nodded but didn’t move, opting to stare at the floor instead. Sam sighed and the couch adjusted after he stood. “Come on. Let’s grab your stuff.”

Dean had just parked down the street from Sam’s place when Charlie texted: **Let me know what happened with Cas.** He shoved the phone deep in his pocket and went inside where Jess hugged Sam fiercely the second they stepped inside. She went for Dean next.

“I’m proud of you for not punching him in the face,” she said

“This time at least,” Dean mumbled.

Jess took his his hand and Dean followed her to the couch. “Come sit. What did he say to you?”

“Same bullshit he always says.”

Sam scoffed. “Be more specific.”

“Sam-”

“Come on, Dean. I have to know the particular brand of bullshit so I can combat it. His favorite pastime is fucking with your head, and I’m not going to allow it.”

“Allow it? Do you own me now?”

“Come on, man--you know what I mean.”

Dean jumped to his feet. “You know what? I don’t need you to fight my fucking battles for me!” he started, but then Jess was between them with a firm “don’t fuck with me” smile on her face.

“Let’s just all admit that we’re on edge about this,” she said. “No one is actually okay, and this fucking sucks. So.” She looked Dean in the eye, then Sam. “No fighting. We’re on the same side.”

Sam finally sat, reclining back into the couch while he shook his head. Dean opted to focus on the bland carpeting when he sat down too.

“Did you get to talk to Cas?” Jess asked. Dean nodded and she continued with a smile. “I bet it was good to see his face.”

“Yeah. He’s looking good.” Dean cleared his throat when he realized what he said. “You know--healthy. Happy.” How had he forgotten that he got to talk to Cas?

Sam was already giving him a strange look. “Good. I take it Benny and Balth are doing okay too?”

“Uh, you know--we didn’t really talk about them.” Dean sat on the couch.

“Then what did you talk about?”

“I gave him a little tour of the apartment and he, uh, he asked how you guys were and what we were doing today.”

“You didn’t tell him about Dad, did you?”

“Well, yeah, Sam--that’s what we’re fucking doing today.”

“He’s going to worry. You need to email him tonight to let him know everything’s okay.”

“I will. Just--god, Sam. It’s fine. This whole thing is fine.”

Sam snorted. “Right. Dad showing up to spew bullshit is _totally fine_ with you.”

Dean looked up intending a sharp retort, but Jess beat him to it, elbowing Sam and whispering something that Dean couldn’t hear before she turned to Dean with a pasted-on smile.

“Let’s order in for dinner. What do you want?”

“Whatever is fine,” Dean mumbled as he settled back into the couch. He didn’t want to think or decide. He wanted to drink or sleep or _something_ to let him step out of his current circumstances. First he fucked up his chance with Cas, then his dad showed actual concern in between picking at his lifestyle. Worst of all his dad had been right about too many things.

Dean ate when food arrived, and watched a movie on one end of the couch while Jess and Sam cuddled together on the other end. Sam kept sneaking looks at him, and Dean pretended not to notice.

“Can you please just tell me what he said?” Sam asked while he tucked sheets in around the couch cushions.

“Sammy, it’s nothing. Bullshit, remember?”

Sam sighed. “Someday you’ll talk without me having to twist your arm, right? Like, at some point you’ll get there and just answer my fucking questions when I ask them, right?”

Dean huffed. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Sam laughed as he stuffed a pillow into its pillowcase. “I just want to help, you know?”

“I know.” Dean picked up the quilt Jess had laid on the recliner and spread it over his makeshift bed. He sat down, and Sam stood there quiet with his arms crossed over his chest.

“He asked me to move back,” Dean said softly, eyes lowered. “Since you’re getting married and everything.”

“What does that have to do with anything? You have a life here.”

“You know, I think--I think he wanted to help in some fucked up way.”

“Dad doesn’t help, Dean. He just wants to mess with you.”

“I don’t know, Sam. He--he said some things. It wasn’t all wrong.”

Sam sat next to him and didn’t say anything for a moment. Before he began he took a deep breath and Dean prepared for the lecture, but Sam’s voice was soft when he spoke. “Dean, Dad knows you very well, which means he knows exactly which buttons to push.” Sam looked down at his hands and Dean recognized the furrowed brow as genuine concern. “You don’t have to tell me what it was, but I know it was something, and please just…” Sam looked him in the eyes. “If you’re going to listen to someone, let it be us. Me, Jess, Cas, Charlie, everyone here that loves you.”

Dean looked away again, but he nodded along.

They sat together for a while until Sam clapped Dean on the back and stood. “I’m going to bed. You have to be at work early tomorrow?”

“By nine.”

“Okay. Jess has to be at the hospital before seven, but I don’t have class ‘til ten. Maybe you and me can do breakfast together if we’re up in time.”

“Yeah, Sammy.”

Sam wished him goodnight, turning out lights along the way. Dean got under the blankets hoping that sleep would happen. He was exhausted, but sleep came slowly when he was stressed. Instead his brain churned the facts of the day over and over always landing on his father.

Some of it was worth being angry over, but there were too many times his father was right. Cas was so kind, so compassionate. Of course he recognized how needy Dean was. Of course he stepped in where necessary. Cas was just that kind of guy.

John Winchester was wrong about one thing though: Cas wasn’t using him. Dean was the one using Cas, and that truth headlined in Dean’s brain all night long.


	9. Letters #10-18

_Dean watched Cas slide his backpack onto one shoulder and pause at the front door. **  
**_

_“... can’t waste my time on you,” Cas said and Dean’s insides ran cold._

_"NO!" Dean yelled, and ran to stop Cas, but he had the door open and when he turned back to look at Dean it wasn’t Cas any more._

_"Warned you…” John said with a barking laugh._

Dean sat up in bed, soaked in sweat and gasping for breath. Cas’s words echoed in his head. He leaned over, sucking air in through his nose and out through his mouth, until he realized where he was and that it had all been a dream.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and slid his hands over his face. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He grabbed his phone--2:49 a.m.--and went out to the couch. A half empty bottle of jack sat on the coffee table next to his laptop. He’d forced himself to go to bed instead of falling asleep on the couch like he’d been doing ever since the move.

After the night he spent at Sam and Jess’s place he convinced Sam that he would sleep just fine in his own bed. He hadn’t anticipated dreaming about Cas every night, and after four restless nights in a row he couldn’t keep going. He had to get himself back together.

Dean surfed stations for anything that would take attention off his own fucked up head and settled on an old western. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and drank, watching the movie until he drifted off.

The overdramatic gunfire sounds in the movie woke Dean up periodically and he woke up again when his alarm went off to get him up for work. He called up the garage and left a message. He’d never called in sick before, but if there was a day to do it, this was it.

Dean lay on the couch most of the morning dozing on and off until his phone beeped with another email from Cas. He’d received three since his father’s visit on Sunday, and he hadn’t read any of them. He grabbed a beer instead.

He knew he needed to write Cas back. He hadn’t told him anything about his father’s visit yet or the conclusions he’d drawn. But how was he supposed to write that down? _I know now that I love you and I was a chickenshit who couldn’t tell you that the other day when we talked. Oh and by the way, that was all for the best because I’ve been using you unintentionally for years and I broke your trust by reading the letters you never gave me and…_

The beer wasn’t even close to enough to ease the guilt. Dean reached for the bottle.

Thing was, he missed Cas. He wanted to read his emails and beg for another call so he could explain himself. Then it could be over and they’d walk away. At least then Dean could know everything was honest between them and maybe he’d stop suffocating under the weight of his secrets. But it was too late to email back now. He’d have to explain his silence, and Cas would know he’d been avoiding him--he probably already knew--but having to put it in words and send it off was just too much. Dean went into the email settings and turned off the notifications. He didn’t need to see Cas’s name any more.

Jesus fucking christ he missed him.

He retrieved Cas’s box of letters from the bookshelf and pulled out the remainder. Nine envelopes, most of them thin. The first one was dated for the deployment about six months after Ellen’s funeral. Dean scanned through it--life on that deployment was rougher for Cas. From the sound of it it was a more dangerous location than where he was currently. But what Dean was really looking for was the _love, Cas_. He needed to see it, but this one was a simple sign off with his name.

Dean tossed the page on the table with its envelope and went for the next one. _Dean, blah, blah, blah, Cas_. He tossed that one aside as well and opened the next one. The exact words weren’t important--he wanted them to say _love_ , but at the same time that word would make everything even more unbearable. Dean was simultaneously relieved and crushed when he looked through five letters without a mention of Cas’s feelings for him. He drank between each one, straight from the bottle.

He almost didn’t open any more. It seemed like a waste at that point--Cas’s letters had become generic information about his deployment--but Dean figured he’d gone that far, he might as well get the last four knocked out. If he was going to escort Cas out of his life for good it was going to be for reading every last fucking word.

He opened it up, but from the first word it was different, _Dear_ beginning the missive.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _We’re getting ready to head home. It’s a lot of work to get us all back there packed up and ready, but we’re almost done. I’m excited. It’s the first time I’ve known exactly where I’m landing when I get back and I’m happy home is with you. I miss you. I miss your laugh and the way you talk to me. I kind of hope you’ll be there with Anna when I get off the plane, but I didn’t ask you to do that, and you can’t read my mind. But I have this recurring dream that you meet me on the tarmac and music swells up and you kiss me and hold me in your arms like letting go would kill you._
> 
> _I thought I was over this before I got here. It’s hard sometimes to hear everyone going on about their girlfriend or wife. I get asked all the time if there’s someone back in the states I want to go after. The honest answer is yes, and sometimes I say that. But the whole truth is that I fell in love with a straight guy and it’s fucking painful to spend three years waiting on someone who will never look at you that way. And you’re my best friend and I’d never risk losing that._
> 
> _Looks like I have about a week to stomp this out and get back to being friends with you. I miss you so much it hurts._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Cas_

_Son of a bitch._ Dean’s heart sped up as he read, and he checked the date again. Just over a year earlier. He grabbed the next letter and held it in shaking hands. If all the letters said it, he’d have to talk to Cas, right? What did Charlie say? _You can’t tell Cas how to feel._ Dean made a silent promise to himself--if the rest of Cas’s letters were like this one he’d tell him how he felt and let Cas decide.

Dean opened it slowly and smoothed the creases. No _Dear Dean_ , No _love, Cas_. It was short, and scrawled quick from the slant of the sloppy handwriting.

 

 

> _Turns out you’re not straight after all. You came home with this dickhead Aaron two weeks ago and you’ve been fucking him ever since. I slept at Charlie’s all last weekend and you didn’t even fucking notice._
> 
> _So fuck you, Dean Winchester. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry._

Dean forced himself to breathe. Aaron had been a mistake. A fun, short-lived mistake. Acting on his attraction to men was new back then, and he didn’t know how to talk about that with Cas and Sam. It had been a sort of understanding when he brought Aaron home. Neither of them said anything to Dean, just kind of quietly approved (or so he thought) and went about their business, so he continued what he was doing too.

The corners of Dean’s eyes burned and he scrubbed his palms hard against them then down his face. It was what--nine months ago? And Cas never said anything. Dean had absolutely no clue that Cas had been upset, no hint at his real feelings. But reading his anger written plain like that felt like Cas screaming in his face. They’d parted on good terms when Cas left for Afghanistan and Cas seemed so happy to see him when they spoke on skype.

Dean tossed the offending letter on the stack and lay back down on the couch. He dropped the last letter onto his chest and opened the other. It was dated two weeks before he left for Afghanistan.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I’m leaving soon. I already packed all my things and you promised to move them for me. I’m glad Sam and Jess are moving in together. I’m grateful, though, that you and I get to stay together even though it means a move. I wondered if you’d go back to South Dakota or not--I’m glad you’re staying. I made plans with Anna just in case something happens and you change your mind about our situation. We have such a good thing going and I don’t want to ruin our friendship with my own petty jealousy. I can’t hold you accountable for things that offend me when you don’t even know how I feel. Things didn’t work out with Aaron. And I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t instantly hopeful when you told me and Sam you were through. I had control over this at one point and I’ll get it back. Seems like this deployment is perfectly timed to get my mind off of you._
> 
> _I don’t think I can stop loving you. We’ve been roommates almost four years, which is crazy to me. And the crush died down, but only because I really fell in love with you instead. And I was stupid to let that happen, but I don’t regret loving you. I don’t regret being there when you needed someone to lean on and I don’t regret our friendship._
> 
> _It was easier when I thought I didn’t have a chance. And now I don’t know what to do. I’m trying to keep our relationship just what it’s always been because your friendship is what I take with me when I go out this time._
> 
> _I’m gonna write you another letter just in case I don’t make it back this time. I’ll spend my free time over there trying to make a decision on this. I’m tired of lying, but I don’t want to lose you._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Cas_

“You son of a bitch,” Dean muttered. He hadn’t had a clue that Cas was thinking any of this before he left. And shit--love. He was talking love like deep in love, forever kind of love right there on the page and that was overwhelming. It wasn’t a word Dean threw around. He’d told his mom when he was little and Sammy a handful of times, but that was it. It had never even run through his head that he might love any of his exes. But Cas--he’d already thought it and they’d never even slept together. They’d shared a few emails back and forth and precisely one Skype call where only Dean was fully aware of the situation.

Dean opened the last envelope.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _If you’re reading this I’m not coming home._

_Fuck, no._ Dean pressed the page to his chest as his vision blurred. He couldn’t give the thought any leverage in his head. Cas had to come home--too many people needed him.

Dean laughed, harsh and short. Who was he kidding? He was the one who fucking needed Cas, relied on him. The move had borne out that truth in excruciating detail. Just a few months earlier he hadn’t realized that missing Cas meant more, but now he knew precisely what that feeling was.

Of course Cas had been strong enough to keep himself together. Dean understood how Cas did it at first--he thought he'd had absolutely no chance with Dean. And then Dean changed the game on him, but even once Cas knew Dean was bisexual he hadn’t said anything. He kept himself together and went off to fight in a real goddamn war. All Dean had done since Cas left was fall apart. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t empty a box, he couldn’t get to work after a fucking nightmare.

Dean smashed the last letter halfway into its envelope, and threw it on the floor.

His dad was right. Dean had Cas captured in some sort of thrall. Cas mistook his natural inclination to take care of people for real love and Dean had led him on unknowingly for years. Now that he knew what he’d done to Cas he couldn’t let it go on. If he did there was going to come a day when Cas would have enough of him--he’d see Dean for what he really was--and go. It would be better for both of them if Dean ended things now before it went anywhere. It would hurt, but he had to tell Cas what he’d done.

Dean sat up and stood, briefly dizzy before he started pacing. He had to do it before Cas got back so he could move out without seeing him. If he saw Cas he wouldn’t be able to leave.

His laptop was on the table and he tapped words out as soon as the email was open.

 

 

> _Cas,_
> 
> _You should know that while you’ve been gone I betrayed your trust. I found a box of letters and read the ones with my name on them. I’m sorry for doing it, but it’s the kind of thing that is unforgivable._
> 
> _I will move out before you get back and get the keys to Anna for you. I’ll pay ahead on the rent as much as I can so you don’t have to worry about it while you settle back in._
> 
> _Dean_

He checked the time in the corner of the screen. It was in the middle of the night for Cas, and _shit_ was it Friday? He’d be expected for movie night at Sam’s in just a couple hours.

Dean jumped up to pace again before hitting send, worrying his fingers through his hair. Would Cas tell everyone what he said? He might keep it to himself, but once Dean sent the email he had to assume everyone would know. He’d have a couple hours of lead time before Sam called to see why he hadn’t shown up. Maybe he could convince them he was too sick to come, but Sam would probably come over to check on him. No one would understand what he was doing, but Dean knew he couldn’t be here when everyone figured it out.

He stalked to his room, grabbed a duffle bag and worked from the top drawer of his dresser down, adding whatever he could fit. Wallet, keys, phone charger--he moved through a mental packing list and went back to the living room. He packed the laptop charger and stared at the screen, re-reading the words he’d written Cas.

It was for the best, so he hit send. He closed the laptop and slid it into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. He grabbed Cas’s set of keys from the kitchen drawer he’d stored them in on moving day and shoved them in his pocket. A quick stop at Anna’s and he’d be out of there before anyone else knew he was gone. He opened the door and paused. The kitchen was still stacked with boxes from when he tried to hide the true state of the apartment from Cas. The walls were bare, the living room littered with beer cans and the blanket and pillow he’d dragged out from his room the night before. His guitar was somewhere in the mess too--he’d come back for his things later, but Dean had to get away.

Anna and Michael didn’t live very far from him and Cas, but the landscape changed to tidy suburban houses between the apartment and Anna’s place. He’d only been there once before for their housewarming party. As Dean turned the car off and popped the door he realized he had no way of knowing if Anna would even be there on a Friday afternoon. He rang the bell and stepped back from the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited.

Anna opened the door and smiled at him. “Dean. Hi.”

“Hey, Anna. Uh. I have some keys for you.” Dean dug into his pocket and produced the keyring for her.

She accepted them, but frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“They’re for Cas when he gets back.” Dean ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck above the collar of his leather jacket. “I, uh, I have to go, so--”

“Dean Winchester, what are you doing?”

His head snapped up at her sharp tone. Her face was firm, but her eyes worried. He backed up and she shook her head. “No, don’t go. Just tell me what’s going on. Cas said you haven’t emailed him back since the Skype call.”

“You know, I can’t--I’m fine. Tell him I’m fine. I emailed him today.”

“Then where are you going?”

Words stopped in his throat. He had no idea where he was going; he just knew he had to get out.

“If this is about the Skype call you should just tell him. Let him down easy and he’ll be fine by the time he gets back.”

“He’ll be fine without me,” Dean turned and jogged down the porch steps.

“Don’t just leave him,” Anna called. “If you don’t know how Cas feels about you you’re a goddamn idiot.”

Dean froze with his hand on the car handle and lowered his head. “Anna, it’s complicated with me and Cas.”

She followed him down the stairs, eyes bright. “If you need more proof there’s these letters in one of his boxes. He wrote you letters-”

“I know. I read them.”

Anna’s face turned incredulous. “Then why the hell are you walking out? He loves you! He has for a long time.”

“He shouldn’t,” Dean said, pulling open the door.

“Did you read the whole box?”

“No--most of them were yours.”

“About you, you asshole. All I did for two tours was give him advice about you.”

“Then it’s better for him if I cut this off before he gets hurt worse. Just give him the keys when he gets back.”

Anna stared him in the eye, her dark eyes shaking with unshed tears and her mouth pressed in a furious line, ready to unleash wrath like no one had ever seen before. When she spoke Dean expected her to yell, but her voice came out barely louder than a whisper. “I have something for you. Will you at least wait for me to go get it?”

“Sure,” Dean managed, and Anna went back inside. She wasn’t gone long, but Dean was just about to get in the car and go when she came jogging back with an envelope in hand.

“Cas gave this to me and told me to give it to you a week before he came home. So, it’s a little early, but I think you need to read it now.”

Dean accepted the envelope with Cas’s familiar handwriting adorning the envelope. Seeing his name written there on the plain white paper made him choke up and he cleared his throat to try to keep Anna from noticing. He tucked the envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Promise me you’ll read it.”

“I will,” Dean said. For the first time since he discovered the box of letters he had no desire to open one of Cas’s letters. Whatever Cas had to say before he left for his tour didn’t apply any more. Dean had changed the rules when he read the other letters, and he didn’t think he could read any more. Dean slid into his seat and slammed the door. He met Anna’s eyes over the hood of the Impala and she shook her head.

Dean turned the key in the ignition and put the car in reverse, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway and away from Anna’s stare. Maybe if he could put some distance between himself and the problem he could actually figure out a way to solve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> repeat after me: Elle will make it right in the end, Elle will make it right in the end, Elle will make it right in the end.
> 
> See?
> 
> You feel better now, don't you?


	10. Return

Dean wasn’t sure how long he stood on Bobby’s front porch before he knocked. He’d driven there with a single-minded focus, but now that he had to look Bobby in the eye and tell him what he was doing there he had no idea what Bobby was going to say. _Fuck_ \--Dean had no idea how to even begin to explain his presence in South Dakota.

Dean raised his hand to knock and the door pulled open. Bobby looked at him from under his ball cap. “You finally got the balls to knock, did you? Been standing out here fifteen minutes already.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but tears stung his eyes and he couldn’t manage more than a puff of air that he tried to play off as a laugh.

Bobby’s eyes zigzagged over his face before he stepped back inside, holding the door wide. “Ah, hell, boy. Get in here.” Bobby pointed him up the stairs. “Put your bag in your room and I’ll fix you some grub.”

Dean nodded and climbed the steps to his old room. He dropped his backpack on the end of the bed and sank down onto the mattress. Now that he was home he was exhausted. He drove almost sixteen hours before he pulled off at a truck stop to grab a couple hours of sleep. More coffee put him back on the road, but he’d hardly slept for a week and it was catching up with him.

“Dean?” Bobby called from the bottom of the steps. “Food’s hot.”

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out before going downstairs. He wouldn’t have answers for Bobby’s questions, and every step closer to the kitchen fed the anxiety in his gut. Bobby was already at the table, so Dean eased into his own chair. He expected questions, a look, _something_ , but Bobby tucked into his food instead. Dean ate what he could, but his appetite had disappeared along with his voice.

Bobby took his dishes to the sink and started the water, puttering back and forth from the table to the fridge as he put things away.

“Cover your plate for the fridge if you ain’t gonna’ eat all that,” he said as he dropped the saran wrap box next to Dean. Dean did as he was told, then stored the plate in the fridge. He went to the sink where Bobby was washing up and bumped him out of the way to take over. Bobby looked him over again and Dean steeled himself for the coming questions.

“Ballgame’s on. Royals-Cubs. Join me when you’re finished if you want,” Bobby said. Dean nodded and turned his focus to the sudsy sink.

He woke up on the couch the next morning when the door slammed behind Bobby on his way out to the yard. Dean drank some coffee and let Bobby put him to work. He swore Bobby was trying to find the shittiest jobs for him, but the distraction was worth it. Proving himself useful was the least Dean could do for Bobby.

“You gonna call your brother or am I?” Bobby asked that night. Dean shook his head and Bobby sighed. “I’m not the one he needs to hear from.”

Dean stayed quiet on the couch until Bobby went off to bed. He fell asleep to the light of the TV again that night trying to imagine how he could possibly apologize to Sam.

“Sunshine! Get the hell up!”

Dean groaned as he rolled. Everything hurt--his back, his neck, his--

Dean hit the floor hip first, then shoulder, and narrowly avoided hitting his head on the coffee table. Bobby poked his head around the corner from the kitchen.

“Perfectly good bed in your bedroom upstairs,” he said.

Dean nodded as he righted himself.

“I’ve got a customer. Text your brother.”

Bobby disappeared and Dean heard the kitchen door slam before he had a chance to haul himself back onto the couch.

No way was he talking to Sam. He gathered empties from the coffee table and trashed them in the kitchen before heading upstairs. Maybe he could sleep a few more hours.

Dean crawled between the sheets. Logic said sleep should come easy after after tossing and turning for so many nights. He closed his eyes and forced his body still for as long as he could stand before rolling. Dean couldn’t find a comfortable position. The light coming in the window was too bright and his head too busy. He flopped onto his stomach and pulled the pillow over his head. He needed an off switch.

He gave up after a while and got dressed. If he was going to be up anyway he might as well get some work done for Bobby. Dean swallowed a few painkillers from the bottle in Bobby’s medicine cabinet to combat his hangover and went outside.

It was bright, and the throbbing pain behind his eyes swelled. Dean squinted and lowered his eyes. He deserved it for doing everything wrong. Bobby acknowledged him with a head nod as he walked up and told the customer, “This is my nephew, Dean.”

Bobby led them toward the southwest section of the lot and explained what the guy was looking for--an interior handle from the driver’s side door. The guy wasn’t sure on the year of the car, but thought he’d know the piece when he saw it. Dean rolled his eyes when the guy couldn’t see him and resigned himself to wandering around looking for a vague part that Singer Scrap probably didn’t have. The guy yammered on about his various projects and Bobby exchanged casual conversation with him while Dean trailed behind.

“... don’t have an opinion? Speak up if you have an idea,” the guy was saying when Dean realized he was speaking to him. Dean met Bobby’s eyes as panic flared in his chest.

“He doesn’t talk much,” Bobby said. “He’ll point it out if he sees something.”

Dean slowed until he was far enough back to miss their conversation. He could pretend to look for a little bit, then head inside. He’d thought maybe he could stay and work with Bobby for a while. But he was pretty useless here, too.

Inside he planted himself back on the couch and turned the TV on. The back door squeaked and the wood floor in the kitchen groaned under Bobby’s feet.

“Text your brother,” Bobby said.

Dean pointedly kept his eyes on the television. Bobby sank into his recliner, beer in one hand, and sighed. “Dean, you’re welcome here as long as you need a place. I’m not kickin’ you out. But I’m not gonna let you hide from your brother neither. I know your dad is a head trip and a half, but you’re avoiding Sam, and he doesn’t deserve that. Y’know, he has no clue why you took off.”

Bobby took a long pull from the bottle and looked at the TV. He was right--Sam didn’t need him taking off like that, and he deserved to know. Dean wasn’t sure of much, but he knew he couldn’t talk to Sam about any of it.

“Whatever John said must have been bad if you won’t tell me or Sam.”

Dean’s eyes burned and he looked down, blinking rapidly to clear them. He couldn’t talk about Cas with Bobby, either. _Hey, I’m in love with Cas but I’m an asshole that couldn’t figure it out until I read his_ private _letters…_ No way he could say that. Dean sniffed and his shoulders shook while he tried to hold everything in.

The couch sagged next to Dean and Bobby’s arm went around him. “It’s okay, son. John’s a lot to take.”

Bobby kept him company on the couch even after Dean finally started nodding off. Dean was only vaguely aware when Bobby threw a blanket over him.

When he woke again it was nearly dark and he could hear voices by the front door.

“Do you think he’ll talk to me?” _Sam._

“Still hasn’t said a word,” Bobby said, voice low.

“Anything else I can do, Bobby?” _Jody. God… I haven’t seen her since Ellen’s…_ Dean shook the thought from his head.

“Nah. Thanks for picking the kid up for me.”

“Of course,” Jody said.

Dean sat up as Bobby and Sam came in, and he shook his head at Sam.

“I know you’re mad that I’m here, but don’t be mad at Bobby. He told me not to come.” Sam said in a hurry, trying to placate Dean. “But I’m staying until you come home with me.”

Dean glared, and Sam raised his hands. “Hey,” Sam said. “I flew here, but you’re my ride back. Or else I’m taking the Impala.”

Dean threw the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders at Sam and went to the kitchen. Sam followed close behind.

“You don’t want to talk. I get it,” Sam said as he ducked to the side to toss the blanket back onto the couch before pausing at the kitchen entryway. “But Cas sent me an email this morning and… he said you’re moving out?” Sam searched his face. “What the hell happened? He said you read some letters of his? You-”

Dean shoved past him and took off up the stairs, locking his bedroom door behind him. He wasn’t going to let Sam ambush him again. He paced the room, breathing heavily. When he stopped, he was shaking, and his heart felt like it was beating fast enough that it would leave him behind if he stopped moving. He grabbed his backpack off the bed and threw it against the wall before slumping down on the mattress.

What Cas must think of him now, he wondered.

Dean slid off the bed and onto the floor, back against the mattress and arms slung over his knees. Tears slid off the end of his nose as he covered his head with his hands. He had ruined everything with just a few words. Talking about it wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

 

***

 

_Dean grappled for his phone in the dark, knocking stuff on the floor before he could answer._

_“Hello?” he asked._

_“Dean, it’s Benny. Cas is bad… They’re doing what they can, but-”_

_Benny’s voice faded to a buzz in his ears and his vision went fuzzy. No. Not... They hadn’t talked, He just needed the chance to--to say it and-_

_“Dean!” Benny’s voice broke through and Dean refocused. “He needs you.”_

He sat up screaming for Cas, heart pounding, sweat-damp sheets twisted around his legs. His door hit the wall as Sam burst in and fumbled for the light switch.

“Dean, what’s wrong? What…”

Dean crushed his head in his hands, gasping for enough air to stop crying. Sam sank onto the bed and put his arms around him.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Sam said. “Cas is fine.”

Dean sucked air in through his nose and out his mouth trying to calm down. He shrugged out of Sam’s embrace and shifted up into the corner of the bed where he could lean against the wall. Sam scooted back next to him.

“Is this whole thing about Cas or Dad?” Sam asked. “Because, I have no idea what the hell is going on right now.”

Dean couldn’t pinpoint it either. Both? Dad and Cas--and probably his own assbackwards approach to the situation. Sam next to him made him feel safe, though. It was just like old times hanging out in his room talking.  

Sam got up. “Be right back.” He left and came back tapping on his phone. “Here.” He sat next to Dean again and passed his phone over.

 

>   _Sam,_
> 
> _Dean and I are going our separate ways. He read some letters I left behind. I didn’t mean for him to read them, but he knows how I feel about him now and he told me he’s moving out. I am sending Anna and Michael for my things. It's only right that I should be the one to go._
> 
> _I know you already will, but please take care of him._
> 
> _Cas_

 

Dean handed the phone back to his brother but didn't meet Sam’s eyes.

“So what happened between you and Cas?” Sam asked softly.

Dean’s head clogged with responses, but the most urgent was to deny everything. He opened his mouth to say something, but the pressure to say it right was too much. He shook his head and ducked down again so he didn’t have to see Sam’s sympathy.

“You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.” Sam said.”I just--I’m worried about you and… and honestly I’m worried about Cas being over there feeling like he’s all alone.”

 _He has Benny and Balthazar and the rest of his unit and…_ Dean tried to justify it, but he knew exactly what Sam meant.

“Here’s what I know,” Sam started. “Cas has had feelings for you pretty much since day one.”

Dean looked up sharply but Sam waved him off. “Yeah, he talked to me about it a long time ago. And I swear to god I thought you figured it out and just weren’t doing anything about it. It wasn’t my place to say anything, y'know?” Sam paused and looked at his hands. “Anyway, I also know you’ve been weird ever since he left for this tour and even worse since we moved you into the new place.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. _Jesus christ_ \-- Sam already knew, and Dean had no idea what to do with that information.

“What I don’t get is why you’re here and Cas is moving out or you're moving or whatever. I mean, you read Cas’s letters. Okay--so did you say something to him on the call? Was he mad at you? Did you make fun of him? Help me out here. You guys are best friends. You can’t tell me that whatever happened is so bad that you can’t recover from it.”

Sam waited like he expected an answer and Dean didn’t have one. Yeah they could talk and he could apologize, but it wouldn’t make a difference to Cas. Dean had fucked it all up and they both knew it. Better to move on.

“Okay, well…” Sam sighed. “If he’s moving out we need to contact Anna. She probably already left you a message.”

_I bet she did too, and not about picking anything up._

Sam continued. “I’ll take care of it for you so we can get Cas’s things out of there. Jess can let them in and get it taken care of before you and I get back there.”

Dean elbowed him.

“What? You were going to leave anyway and Cas can live with Anna for a while. Unless you’re moving in with Bobby or crashing on my couch you don’t have anywhere else to go.”

John’s offer in Kansas flashed in his head, and Dean shook his head.

“Okay, so I’ll get that arranged. Can we check your phone for messages in the morning?”

Dean nodded.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll get his stuff out of there and… and it’ll be done.” Sam patted him on the leg. “Are you gonna sleep or do you need me to stay? ”

He wasn’t going to sleep either way. Dean waved Sam toward the door and Sam got up.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Let me know if you need anything.” Sam turned out the light and closed the door on his way out. Dean laid down in the dark. What a fucking disappointment. Sam was ready to help get Cas moved out of there all because Dean couldn’t tell him what was really going on.

Dean reached for his phone and turned it back on. Notifications for missed calls, texts, and at least a dozen new voicemails came rolling in. His heart sank, however, when no notifications popped up for his email. He clicked on the icon, sure it had to be a mistake, and froze when two emails from Cas sat next to each other in the inbox. Just above was one from Benny only a few hours old. He couldn’t read them.

Dean went back to texts. Those were easy to skim and wipe out. The voicemails were worse. Sam saying he was on his way over since Dean wasn’t answering his texts. Another from Sam said: _Dean, you need to call me as soon as you get there. Looks like you drank your way through the week from the mess in your apartment. Call me so I know you’re safe._

And from Jess: _Dean, if you’re mad at Sam at least call me. He thinks you drove off drunk and you’re dead in a ditch somewhere._

Charlie: _I don’t know why you took off, but just… talk to someone. Please. Like even just a text so we know you’re okay somewhere. You can come stay with me if you don’t want to stay at your place alone. I always like company--especially your company. So just… you know… let us know._

And… _shit_ … from his boss: _So, Dean--you know what happens when your ass doesn’t show up for work three days in a row? You get fired. You can call to make arrangements to pick up your last check and the gear in your locker._

He saved Anna’s for Sam the next morning. If she yelled Dean could try to explain to Sam about the keys he left with her--if he could get his brain to cooperate.

He hovered over the icon for his email before he stabbed at it. Best to just get it cleared out of there. He selected Benny’s first, then Cas’s to mark the for deletion. When he tapped Cas’s, though, it opened instead.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, but he caught the first line before he could back out of the email. So he kept reading.

  

 

> _Dean,_
> 
> _I’m sorry that you found out how I feel about you that way. I understand your alarm and disgust, but you shouldn’t be the one to go. I emailed Anna to ask her and Michael to remove my things from the apartment. She’s going to call you to arrange a time so you don’t have to be there if you don’t want to._
> 
> _I’m sorry,_
> 
> _Cas_

 

Dean’s heart pounded. That wasn’t what he meant at all. He wasn’t disgusted with Cas, he was disgusted with himself! Dean re-read his own email quoted beneath Cas’s. He didn’t mean… _shit_. It wasn’t supposed to go that way.

He opened the next one.

 

 

> _Dean,_
> 
> _I set things up with Anna and she’ll call you shortly. I hope we can be friends again some day, but I understand if that’s not possible. I lied to you and that is a hard to recover from. I am truly sorry._
> 
> _Cas_

 

As fragile as Dean was those few lines from Cas tore him up all over again. Tears ran freely down his face and his shoulders shook as he let out a sob. _Jesus fucking christ_. Cas asking if they could maybe be friends again some day like he was the one who did something wrong was too much for Dean to handle. Cas should be furious with him. He should be ranting to Benny about how Dean had invaded his privacy and ruined their friendship. He should be screaming at Balthazar that Dean Winchester didn’t deserve him.

And instead, Cas took all the blame on himself. All because Dean couldn’t say what he meant.

He wiped his eyes clear and read Benny’s next.

  

 

> _Hey man… I’m not sure how to say this, but Cas is taking this thing between you and him pretty bad. Whatever you’re fighting about put it aside for now so he can focus here. Y’all can work it out when he gets back. But make peace for now at least. He has a job to do._
> 
> _Love you, man_
> 
> _Benny_

 

Dean dropped his phone on the bed as he got up and went down the hall to Sam’s room. He knocked lightly before he cracked the door open. Sam had pushed up on one elbow in his bed.

“Dean?”

“I love him.” Dean’s voice broke on the last word and he covered his face with his hands.

He heard the rustle of sheets and Sam’s feet hitting the floor and then Sam’s arms encircled him again. Dean grabbed onto him.

“Then why are you moving out? Cas thinks you don’t--”

“I wrote it down wrong. I...” Dean took a deep breath but he couldn’t say anything else.

Sam held him back at arm’s length. “You need to talk to him. Straighten this out.”

Dean shook his head frantically. “You…?”

“Dean. Just… let’s see if we can get a call with him and you do your best. Cas knows, okay? He won’t be thinking anything bad about you. You can write it down and read it to him if you have to. Just so long as you fix this.”

Dean shrugged away from his brother. Yeah, he needed Cas to know that this was on him and not on Cas. The real problem was Dean. But calling him to say that was too far. He couldn’t do it.

“An email then?” Sam said like he’d read Dean’s mind. “You have to fix it.” He waited for Dean to nod in agreement before he flipped the light on and went for his computer. He sat on the bed leaning against the wall as he waited for the computer to start. “Let’s send something now. If he gets it today he might be able to set something up soon. Maybe a phone call instead of this email bullshit.” He typed for a while and didn’t look up at Dean until he was finished. “Dude--your password is still impala69?”

Dean sat next to him and saw Sam in his gmail account, email open.

“Can I read what you wrote him and what he sent you? I just--I want to understand what happened.”

Dean closed his eyes but nodded in agreement. He needed help if he was going to get Cas to understand what was going on. He took a deep breath before pointing Sam toward all the emails he and Cas had exchanged in the last few months.

Sam shook his head when he got to the last few messages. “No wonder he thinks you don’t want him around after this.”

“Christ, Sam. He shouldn’t want me around. What I did--”

“You didn’t ask how he felt. You told him you were wrong and you were leaving. But the way you wrote it makes it sound like-”

“I know, okay? Fucking… I know. I told you I wrote it wrong.” Dean hung his head.

Sam set the computer aside. “Sorry, man. You still want my help?”

Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

“Dear Cas,” Sam announced. “What do you want to say?”

“I can’t…” Dean started.

“You can. I’m helping you, remember? So,” Sam focused on the screen. “Do you want to tell him you love him?”

“Sam.”

“Okay, that’s a no. But you at least need to say that you weren’t offended by anything you read.”

Dean nodded and Sam typed.

“And I’m the one who was wrong,” Dean said. “I shouldn’t have read the letters.”

“Okay,” Sam kept typing.

“And tell him to focus over there and come back safe.”

“You want to tell him you’re not moving out?”

Dean nodded.

“You want him to go still?”

Dean swallowed. He wanted Cas to say everything was great between them. He wanted them to make plans to meet at the airport when he got back so Dean could make good on that fantasy of Cas’s.

“No,” Dean said.

Sam typed again, and then tilted the computer so Dean could see better.

  

 

> _Dear Cas,_
> 
> _You did nothing wrong. I wasn’t offended by anything I read in the letters. I’m the one who was wrong. I shouldn’t have read them. I’m planning to stay and I think you should reconsider moving out, at least until we talk and try to work this out. Is it possible to plan a phone call?_
> 
> _Be careful there._
> 
> _Dean_

 

Dean read it over and reached for the computer. Sam slid it across and Dean stared for a minute before making some modifications.

 

 

> _Dear Cas,_
> 
> _You did nothing wrong. I wasn’t offended by anything I read in the letters. I’m the one who was wrong. I shouldn’t have read them. I’m planning to stay and I don’t want you to go. Please think about staying. I want to talk to you about this. Is it possible to plan a phone call?_
> 
> _Please be careful. Benny said you’re unfocused and I can’t have you dying over there._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Dean_

 

Dean held up for a moment before passing it back to Sam. It had to be right. It had to put them on the path to fixing this gap enough that Cas could understand that he was great. Dean was the one who fucked up.

“Yeah--this sounds more like you and says everything you wanted.” Sam looked at him. “Want me to hit send?”

Dean reached across to the touchpad and did it himself.

“Okay. We’ll see what he says and go from there.” Sam smiled. “We’ll fix this, Dean.” He set the computer on the bed and stood up again, his smile growing. “I can’t believe it. I mean--I’ve known about Cas for a while, but I had no idea you felt that way about him.”

 _I didn’t either._ Dean shrugged.

“Back to bed?”

Dean shook his head.

“Wanna’ watch something? Movie marathon? See if Bobby has anything good hanging around here?”

Dean cracked a smile and nodded.


	11. Detour

“There are two perfectly good beds. Upstairs. In your rooms.”

Dean cracked an eye. Sam stretched and yawned in the chair and Bobby looked back and forth between them.

“Hey, Bobby,” Sam said. “Sorry. Dean was having trouble sleeping.” He reached for his phone on the coffee table.

“Coffee’s ready,” Bobby said. “Breakfast too.”

“Be there in a second,” Sam said, smiling at his phone, then focusing on Dean. “Hey, Jess says hi. You should check and see if Cas wrote back.”

Dean closed his eyes. Cas wasn’t going to write back. He’d hurt him too much in all the confusion and it was too late.

“Dean?”

He opened his eyes. Sam stood over him, offering a hand. “Breakfast first and then I’ll look with you?”

Sam filled Bobby in while they ate, looking at Dean for approval whenever he got to sensitive information. Bobby nodded along, not looking at Dean until the end.

“This what you want? Don’t let Sam talk you into anything.”

“Hey!” Sam sputtered. “I’m trying to help-”

“It’s okay,” Dean said softly. “I need him.”

“Okay. Good,” Bobby said and took another bite of his eggs.

After breakfast Bobby went out to meet a customer, and Sam and Dean did the dishes together.

“I’m gonna grab a shower,” Sam said.

“Just don’t use up all the hot water like you used to,” Dean called after him.

Sam laughed. “I think I’ve grown up a little since we last lived here.” He disappeared upstairs and Dean wiped kitchen counters and when there was nothing left to be done he reorganized the refrigerator until the back door slapped closed.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bobby asked. “Leave my food alone. Where’s Sam?”

“Shower,” Dean answered

“Not anymore,” Sam said. He was still toweling his hair as he came around the corner. “Even saved you some hot water.”

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled. He heard Sam and Bobby’s low tones when he was halfway up the stairs, but he didn’t stay to find out what they were saying.

When he got back downstairs Sam sat on the couch with his laptop and Bobby had taken up his recliner. “You want to see what Cas has to say?”

“You looked already?” Dean asked.

“No, I was waiting on you.” Sam patted the cushion next to him. “Let me sign back in-”

“Wait,” Dean said.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I just… I don’t want. I mean… he probably hasn’t even had a chance to see it yet.”

“Checking doesn’t hurt,” Sam said.

Dean knew he was right- it didn’t hurt to check. Cas had either written back or he hadn’t, but Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready for Cas’s answer.

“Don’t you want to know if he wrote you back?” Sam said. “Then we can figure out what happens next.”

“Sam,” Bobby said as Dean ducked his head. “Not now.”

“Then when?” Sam kept his voice low and gentle, but Dean felt every word like a dagger. “You can’t send something like that to Cas and then pretend none of it happened. I thought you were trying to make him worry less, not more. He’s going to say what he’s going to say, Dean, and we’ll sort out-”

Dean jumped up. “Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that!” He was at the back door in less than ten stride and he yanked it open, pushing out the rickety screen and slamming the heavier door behind him. The screen door slapped against the rotting wood frame and Dean sank down into a crouch on the old porch.

He knew goddamn well what had to be done and what Cas was probably thinking. Dean had taken the hard step of writing to him, sure- but waiting for  his response wasn’t any easier. Sure, he’d written Cas with some help from Sam, but the urgency and sincere need to fix what had happened would have propelled him to do it himself if Sam hadn’t been right there. He had to fix it. Cas knew it was Dean’s fault now. He could decide if there was anything worth fixing between them.

As long as Dean didn’t check his email he could pretend Cas might change his mind. There was still hope, just like the minutes before John showed up unexpectedly. It was almost impossible to remember that he’d gotten to talk to Cas the very same day John had knocked on his door. The memory of that conversation had faded in direct contrast to the way John’s visit had sharpened in his mind.  

Anger welled up and Dean got to his feet, pacing the short length of the old porch. It was just another goddamn thing his father had taken from him. It had been a good call. They talked and it was--it was like having Cas there with him, just like they always were. And then John’s fucking knock on the door, and the “heart-to-heart” that left Dean gutted. Again.

And dangling their mother’s rings like that…

Dean wanted them. There were exactly six pictures of his mother in his possession, and Ellen had taken four of them. He didn’t have any of her physical possessions, and neither did Sam. They had stories and Dean’s vague memories, but something to hold in his hand suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world.

Dean sat on the edge of the porch, letting his legs dangle. Ancient machinery and wrecked cars marked a clear line between the house and the yard. The view sucked, but it was a good spot to think.

The screen door opened behind him and snapped closed. but Sam dropped down next to him, a bottle in each hand. He held one out to Dean.

“It’s like ten o’clock, Sam.”

“You going anywhere?”

Dean took the bottle.

“Still want to leave tomorrow?”

“I think I want to get the rings from Dad,” Dean said.

Sam didn’t say anything next to him, just took a drink and stared out into the yard. He set the bottle on the splintering wood and took a deep breath before he spoke. “You think he’d give them to you?”

“If I ask him he might.”

Sam made a noise of disbelief. “Since when has he given us something we’ve asked for?”

“That’s what he said when he was at my place. I had to ask,” Dean took a deep breath. “I think I want to go ask.”

“You got plans for them?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “I just want something of hers. You want one of them?”

“No. You should have them.”

Dean’s eyes welled up and he blinked them clear. “Thanks,” he said.

“I’ll go with you. I don’t want you to think you have to go there alone.”

“You can’t go asking on my behalf-” Dean started, but Sam was already waving him off.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just…I don’t know. I’ll stay in the car or whatever, but I want to be there.”

Dean looked down at his bottle like he was actually reading the ingredient list. He nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll let Jess know we’ll be gone an extra day.”

Dean emptied his bottle before he had the courage to apologize. “I didn’t mean to lose it in there.”

“I get it. I was pushing.” Sam smiled down at his beer where he had started picking the label off. “Cas’ll forgive you, you know.”

“You don’t know that, Sam.”

“Pretty sure I do.”

“How?”

Sam laughed. “After all this you’re going to act like you don’t know he loves you?”

“Why, though?” Dean asked softly, eyes down.

“Dean,” Sam started and Dean tensed for a lecture that never came. Sam was quiet so long that Dean looked over at him.

Sam shook his head. “I wish you could have had a big brother,” he said. “You were always right there when shit happened with Dad, and you were the one who noticed my grades and the stuff I did at school. You were always telling me how far I was going to go. I never noticed that you didn’t have someone saying that to you. “

“You were a kid, Sammy.”

“Yeah, but you’re the reason I never listened to Dad when he said stupid things about me. No one did that for you.”

“I’m fine,” Dean said.

“I think I’ve heard you say that a million times since the move.” Sam looked him in the eye. “You don’t have to be fine. You obviously miss Cas and you’re on your own in the apartment, and--and dad showing up, saying whatever he did messed with you.”

Dean looked away again, out into the yard at all the totalled cars and rusting scrap. “He just reminded me of what I am, Sam. I’m a mechanic that barely made it through high school. And Cas is… Cas is… I don’t know. A fucking hero? And I…” his voice caught and he had to take a few breaths before he could go on. “Dad is wrong about a lot. I know better now, y’know? But sometimes he’s not. And I think he was right about me being desperate and holding onto Cas-”

“Wait. He said what? He called you desperate?”

“Sam…” Dean tried to calm him, but Sam was already up on his feet, fists balled at his sides.

“He’s such a fucking liar-”

“Is he, though?”

“Yes! It’s not desperate to want something for yourself.”

Dean stilled at Sam’s words. _Wasn’t it though?_ His mother’s rings were one thing- in a way he felt like they belonged to him and Sam more than to his father. They weren’t meant to be bait- they were meant to be with someone who cared to have them. But Cas… Well, Cas deserved more than Dean could give him.

“I want the rings,” he said, after a moment.

Sam grinned. “Then let’s go get ‘em.”

 

***

 

Bobby followed them all the way into Lawrence, where he parked at a gas station and commandeered the front seat of the Impala from Sam. He didn’t insist on much of anything with them, but when they told him they were going to Lawrence before heading back to the west coast Bobby told them in no uncertain terms that he was going too. Before they left Bobby made a call under the guise of asking if John had gone to see the boys yet. All he needed to know was whether or not John had made it home so they could find him.

John had moved them around over the years, but always gravitated back to Lawrence. If they were ever within a few hours of the cemetery, John detoured for a visit. He always brought them to see her headstone and gave the same speech  about what she had been before the fire took her. He never understood why his boys couldn’t seem to mourn properly at the sight of her name.

Bobby directed Dean to a squat ranch house. Faded blue paint chipped around the windows and Dean sat staring at the front door from behind his steering wheel. The drive hadn’t been nearly long enough to decide what he was going to do or say. It seemed like a good idea when they left, but now that they sat in the gravel driveway…

“Take your time,” Bobby said. “There’s no rush. Sam and me’ll be here while you take care of this.”

“Or we can go with-” Sam started from the back seat.

“No, I got this,” Dean said, but he forgot everything else he wanted to say when the front door opened and John Winchester stepped out onto the concrete slab outside the front door. John shielded his eyes against the early afternoon sun, and a smile crept across his face.

Dean swallowed hard and pushed the door wide open. By the time he slammed it closed John had crossed his arms over his chest.

“I heard you ten miles off.”

Dean nodded to the Impala. “She likes to sing.”

“Should have known something was up when Bobby called me out of the blue. Got your army with you, but you’re trying to be a good soldier, huh? Braving it alone?”

“I came for mom’s rings.”

John chuckled and shook his head. “You got no use for them.”

“And you do?” Dean shot back.

John’s face shifted from confidence to an angular scowl. “I gave them to her, so yeah, I think I got a right.”

Dean gritted his teeth, breathing in deep through his nose. “Then why’d you even bring them to California?”

John looked down at the concrete slab, considering his answer before he met Dean’s eyes. “Bobby said I should.”

“Were you ever going to actually give them to me?”

John laughed. “Dean, you sound like you actually want them. Find yourself a girl and we’ll talk again.”

Dean glanced back at the car. Bobby was saying something to Sam, but kept his eyes on the situation. “It’s not about that,” Dean said. “I want them because they were Mom’s.”

He heard the car door behind him, but didn’t dare take his eyes off his father again to see if it was Bobby or Sam.

“You can’t even take care of yourself, Dean. Why would I give you something as valuable as your mother’s rings?” John said.

“Don’t listen to him, son,” Bobby said behind him, and set a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder.

John’s eyes narrowed and he stepped off the concrete. “So it’s Bobby’s turn to speak on your behalf now?”

“I’m not speaking for him, just telling him them truth. You’re a fucking asshole and you always have been.”

John walked faster, his boots crunching on the gravel as he closed in. He poked a menacing finger into Bobby’s chest. “Truth? You want to know the truth, Bobby? You can call him son all you want but that doesn’t make him yours. He’s my boy. Always will be.”

Dean shouldered his way between them, eyes wide and breathing hard. “I haven’t been yours for a long time,” he said.

Another car door popped open and Sam stood with fists clenched at his sides. “Dean-”

“We’re okay, Sam.” Dean said, but John put a hand on his chest and Dean froze in place.

“Yeah, Sam,” John smiled, fake as before. “Dean thinks he can stand on his own two feet. Y’know, you and Bobby have held him up so long it’s amazing he can do anything for himself.”

“Shut up,” Dean hissed.

“Bobby brought up ‘the truth’, remember?” John twisted his hand slowly until he had a wad of Dean’s t-shirt in his fist. “Tell me I lied to you when I saw you in California,” he said. “Did I lie?”

“No,” Dean said softly.

“Dean-” Sam started forward but John stilled him with a glare.

“He said he didn’t need you.” John’s gaze shifted from Sam to Bobby. “Didn’t you hear him?”

“If you’d actually listen to _your son_ for once in your life you’d realize the problem is _not_ that he’s not talking.” Bobby said. “Give him the goddamn rings.”

“That sounds an awful lot like you asking for him.”

Dean twisted out of John’s grasp and stepped back into Bobby. “I already asked you for them.”

John scoffed. “You drove a long way for nothing.” He turned and started back to the house.

Dean looked to Sam first, then Bobby.

“Dad,” Dean said.

John laughed outright, letting his head fall back until it died down enough to turn and face his son. “Now you call me ‘Dad’. You only  call me ‘Dad’ when you want something from me. What do you call me the rest of the time?” He laughed again. “Come on. I really want to know.”

“I just want something of _hers_. Something I can hold in my hand,” Dean said. “Can you at least try to understand that?”

John stood still, and all Dean could hear was how loud his own breathing sounded against the rhythmic thump of his heart while he waited for his father to say something. Anything.

John turned back to the house and made it inside in four long strides, the door slamming behind him.

“Fuck.” Dean hunched over, hands on his knees and sucking in air like he hadn’t breathed in a month. Bobby was right there with a comforting hand on Dean’s back.

“You still got a bat on the floor in the back seat?” Sam said between gritted teeth.

“Sam-” Dean started, but Sam was already in the back looking.

“Sam!” Bobby commanded and Sam pulled his long frame out of the car, standing stiff at the sharp tone. “Get ahold of yourself, boy.”

The front door of the faded house opened with a groan and John Winchester was back, eyes dark as he glared at Dean and Bobby standing together. He only went close enough to toss the little pouch at Dean’s feet and backed up to the concrete.

“Don’t you ever come asking me for anything ever again,” John said.

“No problem,” Dean answered as he reached for the pouch. John disappeared into the house again as Dean opened the little bag. The slim band was solid gold and the other wider ring had three diamonds set into it. He stared into his palm until Sam clapped him on the back. Dean looked up at him, dug into his pocket and handed Sam the keys to the Impala.

“You drive,” Dean said as he walked to the car. He slid into a back seat as Bobby and Sam took their positions up front.

Dean wasn’t sure if he’d expected it to go better or worse. He’d gone into the situation knowing it could go either way, and now that he had the rings in his possession he wasn’t sure what to do. It would be easy to keep a promise not to see his father again--that much he knew.

When Sam parked next to Bobby’s car, Dean carefully slid Mary’s rings back into their pouch. They deserved a real ring box and he’d make sure they got one. He slid awkwardly out of the Impala’s backseat to face Bobby.

“Thanks, Bobby,” he said.

Bobby shrugged “I didn’t do nothing.”

“Yeah, you did.” Dean said. “And for what it’s worth he was lying to you too. I--” He took a deep breath. “I mean, home is at your house, Bobby. I call him Dad because I always have, but you...” Dean choked on the next words as his eyes burned.

“Thanks, son.” Bobby said, and pulled him into a tight hug. “You come home whenever you want. You’re always welcome.”

Dean nodded. “I might have to if I can’t find another job near Sam.”

“Any time, you hear?” Bobby squeezed him again and when he stepped back he had plastered a grimace on his face to keep from crying. Dean and Sam knew better, but they also knew better than to comment on it. “Drive safe and call me when you get there.”

They watched Bobby pull out first and followed him until they separated at the highway.

“You okay?” Sam asked after a while.

“I think I will be,” Dean said.

When they stopped for gas Dean went to the pump while Sam went inside to grab snacks. He got his phone out of his pocket out of habit then stopped himself. Cas’s response could be waiting in his email if he tapped the icon. All he had to do was touch it…

Cas’s name stood out brighter than anything else on the screen. There was an email, _re: letters_ in the subject line. Dean glanced at the little convenience store where Sam was talking with the clerk and then back at his phone.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I’m not upset that you read my letters. I meant to give them to you at some point anyway. We obviously need to talk. I don’t want to leave and I don’t want you to go, either. I might be able to call soon. It’ll probably have to be from my cell. I’ll try to email with a time for you._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Cas_

There it was again-- _love, Cas_. Dean’s heart jumped at the words. Knowing how Cas felt because of the letters wasn’t the same as hearing Cas say it out loud. But reading it there...

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Uh, yeah. Um… Cas wrote back.”

“Yeah?” Sam put his hands on the roof of the car. “What did he say?”

Dean circled the car and handed his phone to Sam. Sam’s eyes zigzagged over the email as he read. He finished with a grin.

“I told you. You guys just need to talk about this and it’ll get worked out.”

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and managed a smile. “Maybe you’re right.”


	12. Letter #19

“Jess is going to pick me up at your place after her shift.” Sam glanced over at Dean in the passenger’s seat. “So I might have to hang around if you can stand me a little longer.”

“Just drive to your place and we’ll drop you off there so she doesn’t have to bother.”

“I think she wants to see you for herself.”

Dean laughed. “She doesn’t believe I’m really coming back?”

“Something like that.”

“We’ll be there in half an hour. Maybe I’ll have enough time to clean it up too.”

“Dude, you left a big fucking mess.” Sam said.

“I know.” Dean’s phone pinged. He’d reset it to notify him of new emails after he heard from Cas so he wouldn’t miss the next one. Cas’s hotwings address graced the screen. Dean took a deep breath and opened it.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I can call tomorrow night, about 8:30 p.m. your time. I won’t be able to talk long, but at least we’ll be able to talk._
> 
> _If you have time, could you see Anna? She has a letter for you that I gave her before I left. I think if you read first that it will help since my time is limited._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Cas_

Dean had forgotten about the letter, but when he patted his jacket it was there, tucked in the inside pocket. He glanced at Sam. It could wait ‘til they got back to his place. He’d clean up there, placate Jess, and then maybe after she and Sam left he’d be able to make himself sit down with it.

“Cas is going to call tomorrow night,” Dean said.

“What time?”

“8:30.”

“Good. That’s good, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He pressed his hand against his chest over the letter in his jacket, nerves amping up. He had no idea what was in there, and if Cas had written it before he left, it could go either way. In his last letter before the deployment Cas said he was trying to make a decision about their relationship. Maybe the decision had been to tell Dean and get it off his chest and try to keep the friendship. But maybe he was all in. Maybe he was willing to…

“You sure you don’t want to come stay with me and Jess for a few days?” Sam asked.

“No offense, but I don’t exactly fit on your couch.”

“I just-”

Dean waved him off. “I know, I know. You want to keep an eye on me. I’ll be fine. I gotta find a new job, so… y’know. I’ll be busy. And I left the place a mess, so-”

“I don’t want you to be alone this whole time til Cas calls.”

“I’ll be-”

“If you say ‘fine’ I swear to god,” Sam shook his head and laughed. “That’s just flat out lying, you know? Just say whatever is going on.”

“You want me to say I’m going to stress until Cas calls.”

“If that’s what you’re going to do, yeah.”

Dean scoffed and looked out the window. There was no way he was going to go around blurting out his problems like that, and if Sam thought that was legitimate change he was going to make he was dead wrong.

Sam parked at Dean’s building and followed him upstairs with their bags. Dean worked the key in the lock, and when he opened the door the lights were already on. Charlie and Jess stood in the middle of his living room, both of them grinning.

Dean knew he'd left a mess behind, but the room was immaculate. The little blanket he’d been sleeping with on the couch was folded neatly and hung over the back, and the coffee table was neatly aligned to the angle of the couch.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“We thought we’d take care of your… stuff while you were gone,” Charlie said.

“We just wanted to clean up so you wouldn’t have to do that when you got back.” Jess added.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Dean tried to keep his voice down, but the hard edge in his voice gave away his anxiety.

“We only cleaned up what you left and unpacked the kitchen boxes-”

“You what? You unpacked stuff? Like-” Dean searched for the right words. “It’s not yours! You don’t know where anything goes-”

“Dean-” Sam started.

“You don’t-”

“ _Dean_.” Sam grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the bedroom.

“Did you know about this?” Dean demanded.

“No, I didn’t. But they’re obviously trying to help you out. You know, like friends do?”

“I don’t need that kind of help! I can do this myself. I don’t need-”

The buzzer for the door went off and Dean pushed past Sam in time to see Charlie answer it.

“Delivery for Charlie Bradbury?” came an adolescent voice through the monitor.

“You ordered things here?” Dean asked while Charlie let the kid in.

“I didn’t think you’d object to food,” Charlie said. “I got enough for everyone.”

Dean looked at Sam. “No. I can’t… I just--no. Okay?”

Sam stared at him, eyebrows knit together in the middle as he looked him over. “Okay. We’ll go.” He stepped out into the living room. “You want me to leave food for you?”

“No.”

“Dean, you don’t have anything to eat in this place.” Charlie insisted.

Dean closed his bedroom door and retreated to his bed. He sat down, head in his hands. The fact that they were even there, saw all the bottles, knew what a mess he was… _shit_. They probably saw all the letters, read them even. He hadn’t even put them back in their envelopes before he took off, much less back in the box.

He heard their muffled voices out in the living room, someone higher pitched- maybe Jess?--and then Sam responding. He couldn’t make out their actual words, but he heard the door shut and then quiet took over the apartment.

His phone vibrated in his pocket--a text from Sam.

_Sam (6:32 PM): we’re going home. I want you to think about going back to see Pamela_

_Yeah, right._ Dean texted back: **_I don’t have a job_**

_Sam (6:33 PM): I’ll cover it_

Dean shook his head. He texted: _**no way**_ and tossed the phone on his nightstand. He could ignore Sam’s texts until Sam gave up.

He dug in his pocket for his mother’s rings. He’d been carrying them ever since he got them, and he opened the little pouch that held them safe. They clinked together as they rolled into his hand, and he closed his fingers around them, the circles pressing into his skin. They were really there, really his to hold onto. He couldn’t get a good box for them yet, but as soon as he found work again it would be the first thing he did.

Dean gently tucked them back into the bag and pulled the little strings tight. Christ--he was hungry. He regretted telling Sam not to leave him anything. He wasn’t sure he had anything edible in the place. Dean dropped the little bag on Cas’s bed and went for the kitchen. There had to be something in there he could eat.

“Hey.”

Dean turned around to see Charlie sitting on his couch.

“I thought you left.”

“I’m sorry. I just--I couldn’t leave you like this.” She got up and joined him in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Like what, Charlie?” Dean wrenched the refrigerator door open and made a show of looking through the practically empty shelves.

“Alone. Angry?”

He slammed the door closed. “I’m not angry, I’m… okay, I’m angry. You don’t go through someone’s things. You don’t-” Dean stopped himself for a moment. “You and Jess shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right,” Charlie said. “We wanted to do something for you and I got caught up in that idea. If I’d really thought it through I would have realized you wouldn’t want us to do that. I’m really sorry, Dean.”

Dean leaned against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t need you to do that.”

“Okay,” Charlie said.

“And I didn’t want you to do that.”

Charlie cringed. “I know, I’m so sorry.”

Dean set his mouth in a firm line. He was still angry, but he believed her apology. “Okay. Just--ya know--ask me before you do stuff like this.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Dean waved her off. “Stop saying that. I’m done. We’re good.”

“Can we watch a movie or something?” Charlie asked. “Or if you don’t want to stay here you can come back to my place. I have snacks and video games.”

“Snacks and video games? That’s how you’re going to lure me in?”

“Come on! If you come over I can beat your ass in the game of your choice.”

Dean laughed. Christ--he hadn’t really done much of that for months, but now that it felt like there was hope on the horizon it was easier to laugh. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“I’ll call in,” she said. “You’re definitely more important.”

“Be careful there, Bradbury. Calling in once can lead to job loss,” Dean said.

“Pretty sure that happened because you didn’t call in any of the _other_ days you were gone.”

“Yeah, well… at the time I thought it didn’t matter.” Dean looked down into his hands.

“Hey, don’t get sad. We’ll find something else for you. And if push comes to shove you could always come stay with me for awhile.”

“Just pick a movie, Bradbury.”

Charlie knelt in front of his DVD collection and Dean took up one end of the couch. “What are you in the mood for?” she asked.

“Something I don’t have to think about.”

Charlie considered and pulled out a DVD case. “No better medicine than _The Fast and The Furious_ ,” Charlie explained with a grin. “Besides, Paul Walker has _dreamy blue eyes_ just like Cas.”

 

***

 

Charlie was asleep by the end of _2 Fast 2 Furious_ , her legs draped over Dean’s. He pulled the blanket to cover her better, then carefully extracted himself without waking her. When he turned off the TV the room went black. He felt his way to the bedroom and flipped on the light. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted.

The second he laid down he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Dean got up and found his way back out to the living room where Charlie snored and grabbed his jacket. He closed his door on the way back in and flipped on the light on his nightstand. He pulled out the letter Anna had given him before he left, and stared at Cas’s neat handwriting on the front-- _Dean_ perfectly centered.

This letter was sealed, unlike the others. Dean peeled the top corner enough to slide his finger under and then slid carefully along the glued line so as not to make a mess of the envelope. He pulled the flap back carefully and then pulled out the neatly folded page.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I’m writing this letter just before I leave on another tour in Afghanistan. I have done well on previous tours, but there is always inherent risk to my job. I leave a letter for Anna every time, but this is the first time I’ve left a letter for anyone else before heading out._
> 
> _This is not a goodbye letter. In fact, it’s a letter I’m writing in the hopes that I’ll somehow become a braver man before I come home again. If nothing has changed I’ll burn it when I return. And if somehow I am courageous enough, this letter is in your hands right now so that you can have time to think too. It’s only fair. I want you to have that._
> 
> _Dean Winchester, would you consider going on a date with me? I have considered several factors._
> 
> _1\. We are best friends and I don’t want that to change. It won’t change for me no matter how you respond. I cannot imagine life without you._
> 
> _2\. I have feelings for you. Hence asking for a date, in case that wasn’t clear. If you don’t feel similarly we can continue our friendship._
> 
> _3\. Because of these feelings I have to ask you. I know it’s a risk, but I have to ask so I can know the answer and go forward accordingly. No matter your answer it will not make me think differently of you as my friend._
> 
> _I hope you’ll understand my perspective no matter how you decide to answer. Anna has been instructed to give this to you a week before my arrival home to give you time to think. I am prepared no matter the answer. I hope to see you at the airport when I get home._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Cas_

Dean wasn’t sure what to think. Cas was asking him out, but no mention of long unrequited love like he wrote about in the other letters. His words were careful, guarded, and balanced delicately against the chance of rejection. Cas graciously gave him room to bow out. It was just like Cas to put him first.

A date paled in comparison to what Dean knew he had to tell Cas, but he couldn’t jump straight to a love confession either. There hadn’t been a date, a kiss, an _anything_ to build on aside from their long friendship. There were proper steps to be taken before he should say anything about love. He needed a job before Cas came home.

 

***

 

The mattress bounced.

“I’m sleeping,” Dean croaked.

“It’s after ten,” Charlie said, and bounced on the mattress again. “I went out and got coffee and donuts.”

“Okay. Fine. Let me like… get up in peace.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It was a nice way to say get the fuck out, Charlie.”

“Okay, okay. You have five minutes and if you fall back asleep, so help me, Dean Winchester-”

“Fine!” he groaned and Charlie smiled.

“I’m going to eat your donuts!” she called over her shoulder before she closed his door.

Dean sat up and stretched. She’d make good on her threat if he gave her a chance.

After a quick trip to the bathroom he settled on the couch with Charlie and his breakfast. The donuts were delicious but the coffee was better. Dean sighed with the first sip.

“What do you want to do today?”

“I should probably try to find a new job.”

“We can definitely do that. Any chance you can explain what happened to your boss? Call it a family emergency?”

“I don’t think so. It’s been over a week. He’s probably filled my spot already.”

“Okay, so we’ll check out other places. Do you have a current resume?”

“Uh, mostly, I guess. It doesn’t have this last garage on it.”

“Okay, so we’ll update it and start sending that out.” Charlie jumped up and took her plate to the sink. “I was also thinking that if you want me to I can help you unpack.”

“Charlie-”

“I know you don’t want people touching your stuff. But I’ll follow directions--whatever you tell me to do.”

“Whatever?”

“Don’t go getting weird ideas, now.”

Dean grinned. “Of course not.”

“Get your computer and we’ll work on the job thing first.”

Dean’s resume needed more than a little update. He added the newest information and then let Charlie pick at it, refining the format and wording. Dean went back to his room for his phone. The plan was to search for job openings while Charlie worked, but as soon as he checked it he was hit with a pile of texts from his brother.

_Sam (6:35 PM): it’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me_

_Sam (6:35 PM): Jess agrees_

_Sam (6:42 PM): text or call please_

_Sam (6:49 PM): I know you’re mad but call or text_

_Sam (6:56 PM): if you don’t let me know you’re alright I’m calling to make an appointment with Pamela for you_

_Sam (7:39 PM): you’ll never guess who i just made an appointment with_

_Sam (8:32AM): please talk to me. Charlie says you’re okay, but i’d rather hear it from you_

Dean rolled his eyes, but tapped out a message for his brother.

_**Dean (10:55 AM): I’m fine. Working on my resume with Charlie.** _

His phone buzzed before he made it out to the couch.

_Sam (10:56 AM): okay. can you please call me after you talk to Cas?_

_**Dean (10:57 AM): yeah** _

“Who’s that?” Charlie asked.

“Sam.”

“He called me earlier.”

“And you told him I was behaving myself. I know.”

“Take a look at this.” she said and patted the seat next to her.

Dean sat and leaned over to look at his work life on paper. “Looks good to me.”

“Ready to start applying?”

“Uh, let’s just…” Dean cleared his throat and stood up. “That’s enough for now. Maybe after lunch?”

“Sure.” Charlie set the laptop aside. “We can eat and then maybe unpack?”

 

***

 

“This is too much,” Dean complained as they carried grocery bags into the apartment.

“You had no food.”

“But you shouldn’t have-”

“Think of it as an apology and a housewarming present. Belated.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Dean said. “Whenever I get another job.”

Charlie set the bags she was carrying on the kitchen counter. “Absolutely not.”

“Charlie-”

She turned around sharply, index finger out and ready to jab into his chest. “Don’t. No arguing.” She started pulling items from the bags and stacking them from the counter. “Now tell me where you want these.”

After the groceries were put away, Charlie went over to one of the stacks of boxes at the edge of the living room as soon as the groceries were put away. “How would you like this to go. Do you want us to work out of the same box for awhile?”

“Uh, yeah. Maybe.”

Charlie opened the box on top. “Looks like extra sheets?”

“Uh, those can go in my closet. Top shelf.” Dean watched her go and come back. She had to be thinking about how nuts it was that he still hadn’t unpacked after months in the apartment.

“Towels?” she asked.

“Bathroom closet,” Dean said.

True to her word, Charlie did everything Dean asked of her and never said a word contrary. He put things away too, and it wasn’t long before they’d finished emptying an entire stack.

“Hey, Charlie?” Dean asked and Charlie looked up at him. “When you and Jess were cleaning… there were some letters from Cas?”

‘Oh yeah. I put them back together and in the box. I swear I didn’t read any more. I put it under Cas’s bed.”

Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“So,” Charlie chewed her lip like she was uncertain about her next question. “did you read the rest of them?”

Dean felt his face heat. “I did.”

“How many did he write you?”

“Eighteen. Well, nineteen if you include-” Dean snapped his mouth shut. He didn’t really want to talk about Cas’s last letter with anyone.

“Include what? Was there an extra letter?”

Dean forced a breath in and out before he answered. “He left a letter for me with Anna. I--I read it last night.”

“Awwww,” Charlie said. “That’s so sweet. What did it say?”

Dean’s cheeks went red and he tugged at the collar of his tshirt. “He kind of asked me on a date.”

“In a letter?”

“Yeah. I guess he wrote it before he left.”

Charlie gasped and shook her head. “No that’s--he knew he was going to ask you out when he got back?”

“I guess he was pretty sure.”

“Oh, that’s great! What are you going to say when you talk to him?

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted.

He thought about it while he worked. There were too many things to say and not enough time. He knew the charges to call the US while out on tour were crazy high and he didn’t want to burden Cas with something like that.

Charlie finished up a box and grabbed her coat.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s almost time for Cas to call.”

Dean glanced at his phone. _Shit_ \--she was right. Half an hour left.

“Unless you want me to stay,” Charlie offered.

“No. Uh, thanks though.”

Charlie hugged him tight. “Eat something. And maybe call me when you’re done talking to Cas,”  she said. Dean squeezed her back.

“I’ll definitely call you this time,” he said.

The door clicked shut softly behind her and Dean was alone. He had already cranked up the volume on his phone earlier, worried that he’d miss the call even though he had known it was hours away.

What was he going to say? He knew he was going to let Cas go first. And he knew they had to talk fast. He’d spent part of the morning reading about receiving phone calls from soldiers, and if Cas was calling from his personal cell like he’d claimed in his email it was going to be expensive. Dean didn’t want to run up a bill for him.

He’d tell Cas he read the letter, and then Cas could say his piece and Dean would answer back. He’d watch the time.

Dean checked his phone. Eighteen minutes left--eighteen minutes until he had to put words to what he felt for Cas. He set it on the counter and took a deep breath. He reminded himself he had plenty of time just as his phone lit up and rang. Cas’s picture popped up, eyebrows crunched in the center like he was confused. So much for his eighteen minutes.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said.

“Hello, Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few homages to messier51- in here partly because of all the beta work she's put in, partly because I think it's hilarious. But the Fast and Furious references have to do with her, as well as Charlie's line "What does that even mean?"... which is a frequent comment on my drafts. She is right 99% of the time.


	13. Back and Forth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to profoundfall for her thoughts on this chapter.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean sighed louder than he meant to because _goddamn_ if Cas’s voice wasn't the best thing he'd heard in weeks. “You called,” Dean said.

“I said I would.”

“I know.  Just… you're early. I thought I'd have more time to know what to say.” Dean paced his living room. He had to keep moving.

“Oh.”

The uncertainty and sadness carried in that one syllable sent Dean into frantic apology. “No, not bad, Cas. I mean there's a lot to say and it's an expensive call and I don't want you to waste your time on me.”

“You have never been a waste of my time, Dean.”

Dean swallowed hard. “Cas…”

A pause hung between them until Cas went on.  “Did you get the letter from Anna?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I read it.”

“Do you need more time?”

 _No._ “Cas, I…” Dean froze in place and his words stopped along with his feet. What should he say? What was right? What was-

“If it's no I understand.” Cas said. “Don't try to come up with a good reason why. I don't need one. If your answer is no you can just say so and I'm still your friend.”

“It's not…”

“Dean, it's fine. I-”

“Cas, I need you to come home, okay?” Dean's mouth went dry and the seconds before Cas spoke felt like a year.

“What do you mean?” Cas’s deep voice rumbled over the line.

“Like… we have so much to say and I…” Dean started walking again, tracing a line back and forth across the room. “I don’t think I can do it now over the phone, but I want to tell you… and...” Dean faltered. “Just please come home to me.”

Dean held the phone tight to his ear and waited while he walked. Cas didn’t say anything and every second that passed compressed Dean’s chest until he felt like he had no air left. He stopped in place. “Are you there?” he asked.

“Dean, what happened there?” Cas spoke gently, but the words jumped at Dean. What happened? _Everything._ Recognizing his feelings for Cas, his confrontations with his father, running away and coming home...

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I will be,” Dean said, pacing again. “I always am.”

“Dean, Sam told me what happened with your dad, and you didn’t write me back after you saw him. And then you sent me that email about the box of letters and I thought-” Cas stopped short.

Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the end of that sentence. “I’m sorry about that, Cas. I was an asshole-”

“Please don’t. I’m not placing blame, just trying to understand.” Cas paused before he continued. “You asked me to come home. To you.”

Anxiety swelled in his gut as Dean tried to think of a reasonable answer. “I did,” he said.

“I don't want to misunderstand what you're saying.”

Dean took a breath. He had to put it out there; he couldn’t leave Cas confused or worried--not while he had work to do over there. “I’m saying that date you suggested in your letter sounds like a good idea.”

Cas’s laugh rolled rich through the line and Dean grinned, relief finally releasing him.

“Really?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. About two months from now? I can pick you up at the airport.”

Cas laughed again, and Dean’s body warmed at the sound. “It’s a date then.”

“Good.” Dean couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Can we talk again sometime before that?”

“I don’t know if we’ll have access where I’ll be. But you can always email me and I’ll get back when I can. I’m sorry I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s okay. I’ll write you.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. “Dean, I…”

“Hey, you should go,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. “This call is already costing enough.”

“I don’t care how much it costs.” Cas said. “We’re going to be… I want you to know that I don’t care that you read those letters. Everything I wrote for you was true, and I still feel… I still…”

Dean took a deep breath. “I know, Cas. We’ll talk when you come home.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll write you soon.”

“Me too,” Dean said. “Take care of yourself, Cas.”

“You too, Dean.” The call ended, but Dean stood still in the middle of his living room holding his phone at his side. They would write, and two months wasn’t that far off. He had plenty of time to figure out how to tell Cas he loved him.

 

***

 

Dean checked his watch again before he looked out the window and down to the street. Sam was ten minutes late, and Dean was about to come out of his shoes. When Sam first suggested they go to a late lunch after his classes that day, Dean had turned him down. Sam had chipped away at his resolve over several texts, and now that it was time he was itching to get out of the apartment. He’d been there for five days, and he could only look through online job ads for so long each day before it sent him back to bed.

His phone rang in his hand. “Where are you, Sam?”

“Almost there. I got stuck trying to coordinate a study group after class.”

“Are you close enough for me to come down?”

“Yeah. Be there in a minute.”

Dean only had to wait a couple minutes before Sam pulled up. He slid into the passenger seat. “Where we going?”

“There’s this new artisan burger place I thought we could try. Since you’re the connoisseur I figured I should take you instead of Jess.”

“Sign me up,” Dean said.

Sam complained about his class in general and his study group in particular while they drove. Dean listened enough to nod in the right places. He watched for help wanted signs in storefronts. If working as a mechanic wasn’t in the cards for him anymore he’d have to find something before he ran through his savings.

“Dean?”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Sammy. I must have faded out on you.”

“I just asked if you’d heard from Cas.”

“Not since he said they were going to have a hard time with communications for a while.” Dean looked at his hands, picking at a hangnail on his thumb. “What do you think that means exactly? They’re in a rougher area? They move around?”

“I don’t know. Ask Cas when he gets back. Or you could call Andrea.”

“I don’t want to bother her.”

“Dean, she wouldn’t think it’s a bother.”

“I don’t know,” Dean said. He didn’t want to be the one to accidentally let slip about Benny’s close call. Hell- he wasn’t even sure if Sam knew about it.

They had to park and walk to get to the burger place, but it was worth it.

“I might not need to eat for a month,” Dean groaned as they walked out. “Good thing since I don’t have a job.”

They walked back to the car, but when Dean reached for the door handle Sam waved him on. “There’s a place down here I’ve been wanting to check out. Do you mind?”

“I don’t exactly have anywhere else to be,” Dean said. He caught up to his brother and they were a couple blocks down when Sam turned left on what looked like a residential street.

“Wrong place?” Dean asked.

“No. Just up here.” Sam turned down the walk to the third house on the left. Dean followed until he saw the sign next to the door for Pamela Barnes, licensed therapist.

“Hey- no! I told you-”

“And I told you I made an appointment!”

The screen door squeaked as it opened and Pamela appeared. “Now, boys, no need to fight on my front lawn. Let’s take it inside.”

Sam started up the porch steps, but Dean didn’t budge, legs firmly rooted in place even though he was starting to shake.

“Come on, Dean. You can do this,” Sam said.

“I told you… I told you I didn’t want…” Dean forced himself to breathe without having to double over.

Pamela stalked across the porch, screen door slapping closed behind her as she made her way down the steps and met him on the cement sidewalk. She had changed very little since Dean last saw her aside from her dark wavy hair being cut shorter. Pamela still met his eyes with the same knowing gaze she’d always had.

“The appointment isn't for you. It’s for Sam,” Pamela said. “So if you want to join us I’d love to catch up with you for a few minutes before Sam’s appointment. And if you don’t I’m sure you can wait in the car for him. Up to you.”

“What do you need a therapist for?” Dean snapped at his brother.

“I’ve got some things on my plate too, Dean.”

“No, this is a trick. This is-”

“It isn’t,” Sam said. “I know it looks like it, but I didn’t think you’d come if I actually asked you. I’ve been coming for a while and kind of wanted you here while I talk about dad.”

The anger and fear melted out of Dean and his shoulders sagged. “You never told me you were doing this.”

“Didn’t seem important.”

“So what do you say?” Pamela asked. “You coming in or waiting in the car?”

Dean looked at Sam, then Pamela. “Sure. I can come in for Sam.”

Pamela’s office was just inside the door, but he could see her kitchen at the end of the long entry hall. The hardwood in the entry continued into her office space and Dean followed it in. Sam took the couch like he belonged there, so Dean sat in one of the chairs. He wondered how long she’d been out of the old stuffy office space where they’d met for long sessions while he said little to nothing.

“So what have you been up to, Dean?” Pamela asked.

“Not much. Same kind of stuff.”

Sam made a noise and Dean glared at him. “What?”

“The last month has been crazy for you,” Sam said.

“Well, we’re not here for my crazy, are we?”

“Dean-”

“Sam.” Dean put enough of a hard edge on it to keep his brother from continuing.

“Ouch. Okay- so, crazy, but you don’t want to talk about it,” Pamela said. “Gotcha. Sam? How have you been the last few weeks?”

“Uh…” Sam glanced over at Dean. “She knows about South Dakota.”

“I know that Sam went to be with you,” Pamela corrected. “He didn’t tell me any details of what happened there. But he told me where he was going and a little of why when he called to cancel our last session.”

Her reassurance did little to help the anger working in Dean’s chest. “Fine,” Dean said. He didn’t want to talk about any of it. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t even want to remember it, much less examine it with a finetooth comb.

Sam kept an eye on his brother while he continued. “I’m back, Dean came with me, but, uh, we stopped to see our dad on the way back.”

Dean jumped up. “I’m gonna wait on the porch,” he said, and he was gone before Sam or Pamela could say a word.

Pamela had a porch swing hanging to the left of the door and he sat there. It swung back hard with the force of his body, but Dean planted his feet firmly on the painted wood planks of the porch to stop it. Sam could talk about their dad all he wanted, but Dean didn’t have to.

When he’d gone inside he thought he could listen to Sam talk about it, but it still made Dean shake with the idea of what could have happened there. He needed to close the door on his father and move forward, eyes front. Nothing good could possibly come from revisiting that scenario.

Dean was fiddling with his phone when the door opened and shut next to him. He glanced over enough to recognize Pamela instead of Sam.

“Your brother wants to talk to you,” she said.

Dean jabbed at the screen with his finger. “Yeah, well we don’t always get what we want.”

“What about getting what you need?”

“Don’t even-” Dean started, but she laughed and the tension across his chest eased.

“Come talk to him, and then you two can get out of here.”

“I don’t need to talk.”

Pamela stood, and Dean kept his eyes steadfast on his phone even though the screen had gone black.

“Maybe you don’t need to talk, but Sam does.”

That pulled him to standing. “Let’s get it over with,” Dean said.

Sam was still on the couch, hunched over until he heard them coming in. His head popped up and he shook his dark hair out of his eyes. Dean resumed his place in the chair.

“Sam?” Pamela asked.

Sam faked a smile and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I just wanted to say-- I know you needed to do that thing with dad on your own. But… you have me. All of us. I don’t want you to think you have to keep doing stuff on your own.”

“I don’t,” Dean said.

“Dad put that in your head a long time ago, and it’s not true. Not even a little.”

Dean fought the urge to jump up, to run out again. “You know what, Sammy? If you want to talk about you and whatever you’re going through I’m here for you. But don’t make this about me.”

Sam glanced at Pamela and she shrugged. “He’s right. He came in here to help you, not for you to analyze him.”

“Fine.” Determination sparked in Sam’s eyes. “I was afraid for you. You stood there and let him put his hands on you and I thought he was going to beat you to a pulp.”

“I’m fine, Sammy.”

“Christ- stop saying that!” Sam roared. “You’re not fine! You haven’t been fine since Cas left!”

Dean jumped to his feet and paced the short distance behind the chair. “I told you this isn’t about me-”

“Dean, you’re my brother. And watching you go through all this has been difficult. I’m worried about you.”

“I know,” Dean muttered. “You try to feed me every damn day.”

“You won’t let me do anything else for you!”

What was he supposed to do? Beg Sam to unpack his apartment? Find him a job? Get Cas back home? “There’s nothing for you to do.”

“Let me in," Sam said. "Like you did in South Dakota.”

“Sam, that was… that was different.”

“Because it was about Cas?”

Dean stopped in place, gripping the back of the chair in tight fists. “Me and Cas are getting this straightened out.”

“I know. So it’s just--it’s dad?”

“Off the table, Sammy.”

Sam examined him, eyes flitting over Dean’s face before he nodded firmly. “Okay.”

Dean looked at Pamela. “We done here?”

“Are you done?” she asked, her dark eyes challenging him for an answer.

“Let’s get out of here, Sammy,” Dean said as he led the way out.

Sam caught up with him halfway down the block toward the burger place. He came up behind Dean panting from his jog, but his breathing evened out as they walked together.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said once they were back in the car.

“It’s done,” Dean said.

“I ambushed you.”

“Yes, you goddamn did.” Dean turned his attention out the window.

“It was true, though,” Sam said. “I was going to destroy him with that bat.”

“Well, it didn’t come to that, did it?” Dean snapped. “And now we don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

“You really believe that?”

Dean kept his eyes off Sam. There wasn’t anything to see as they drove, but he was done. Done with his father, done with the discussion, done with everything.

Sam pulled up to the front of his building, sliding into an open space.

“How do you always get a fucking parking space up close?” Dean grumbled.

“Magic,” Sam said.  “Hey, you should talk to someone.”

“I’m not going back there.”

“Why? You like Pamela. She really helped you before.”

“That’s--that’s done.” Dean pulled the handle and the door popped open.

“Then if you won’t talk to her, talk to someone. Me, Jess--you know, Andrea would be a good choice.”

Dean looked into his brother’s puppy dog eyes and shrugged. “What is your deal with Andrea? I’ll think about it.”

Sam didn’t look any more convinced than Dean sounded. Dean climbed out of the car and managed a wave as his brother pulled away. He didn’t want to make any promises when he knew he wouldn’t keep them.

Dean got in the elevator to head up to his floor, but then just as the doors started to close he slipped out and headed to the stairs. He had to work off some energy if he was going to have any hope of sleep later that night. He was tired by the time he made it to his door, but maybe he’d actually sleep because of it.

He dropped his jacket over the arm of the couch before he sat to take off his boots. Once they were off he leaned back into the couch, reluctant to get up. His laptop was right there on the coffee table, remote on the floor next to the couch; he wouldn’t have reason to get up for a while. He checked his phone for a new message from Cas, and ended up rereading the ones they’d exchanged after the phone call.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _Benny says I haven’t stopped smiling since we talked, and he’s probably right. I’m so happy we talked and got some things worked out. I was already eager to get home, but even more now that I know you’ll be waiting at the airport for me._
> 
> _I miss you. I miss everyone, but I’m ready to get home. Home to you._
> 
> _Take care of yourself. Keep seeing Sam and everyone._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Cas_

 

Dean’s response tailed after.

 

 

> _Dear Cas,_
> 
> _I’m glad we got to talk. It was good to hear your voice. Really good. I probably should have said more, but talking on the phone isn’t my thing. And there’s some stuff you shouldn’t say over the phone._
> 
> _Be careful and watch out for Benny. Balthazar too. Come back to me._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Dean_

 

He’d written back the second the email showed up, and worried over every word the longer his message went without a response. Dean knew he’d have to wait--Cas had said as much--but that didn’t make it any easier.

It’d been five days since Dean had written Cas, and he could keep waiting for a response or he could write again. Sam said talk to someone, and the only person he really wanted to talk to was Cas. Maybe Cas couldn’t talk right then, but that didn’t mean Dean couldn’t talk to him. Dean opened a new message and began to type.

 


	14. Countdown

There were 44 days until Cas’s arrival at the airport, which meant 43 days to find a job, even though _right the hell now_ was what Dean needed. He’d walked around to plenty of garages, introduced himself, even had good long talks with a couple of owners that he thought might go somewhere, but no phone calls yet. Charlie kept sending him links for places to apply, and all Dean wanted to do was sleep.

13 days without an email from Cas. He knew it was going to be a while, but he hadn’t imagined it would be this long. He was drinking alone in front of the TV when it hit him: _what if Cas meant he’d be out of touch for the rest of the tour?_ That knocked him down for a couple days.

11 emails sent. Dean kept writing, mostly in the morning before the job search zapped his energy. Cas didn’t need to know about that, so Dean wrote about going to dinner with Charlie and movie nights on Fridays. He wrote about the ridiculous shirt that Sam bought and Jess forced him to return.

3 days since the call from Anna.

“Cas said he wants you at the airport to meet him,” she said. “Did you do this?”

“Technically he’s the one that asked me on a date.”

“You said something to him. You convinced him that you’re not an asshole-”

“Cas knows how I am,” Dean said. “So if you just called to make me feel like shit it’s not going to work.” Fuck, could he talk a good game even while his insides were dying.

“When he gets back you better believe I’m going to tell him every last detail of how you crushed him and ran away. You’ll just do it again and he’s too in love with you to see it,” she said, and that part had rattled around his head for 3 days straight.

_You’ll just do it again._

Sam had pressed him again to call Andrea, and Dean put it off. Except now that he was thinking about Cas and 13 days without contact, he couldn’t stop thinking about exactly what that meant for Cas and his unit.

Andrea’s phone rang twice and went to voicemail. He cleared his throat while she asked him to leave a message.

“Hey, uh, this is Dean Winchester. Um, Sam said I should call. I wanted to, you know… talk about the deployment maybe? Uh… I was kind of wondering what it means when they don’t have contact for this long. That’s it. You can text it to me if that’s easier. Thanks, bye.”

Who knew when Andrea would call back, and maybe she wouldn’t. Dean tried to convince himself that it was okay not to know--Cas would tell him when he got back--but fear was getting the better of him. Dean got up; he had to do something. There were boxes still to work through, but that was something he couldn’t deal with right then. He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and fished in the pocket for his keys.

Dean hadn’t taken a drive for a long time--if he didn’t count the impromptu road trip to Bobby’s and back. No, this was a reasonable “clear your head” kind of drive, he told himself. Not a “run away from everything” kind of a drive.

It took a while to work his way out of the city. It was mid-day, but traffic was as heavy as rush hour in some places. Dean breathed easier once he got past it all, punching it hard when he had the room to do so and turning up the music. The Impala roared under him and he relaxed. _This is what I need._

His phone rang on the passenger seat and Dean turned down the music before he answered on speaker.

“Yeah?”

“Dean Winchester?”

“That’s me.”

“Andrea Lafitte. You called me.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, Andrea. I didn’t recognize your number and I’m driving and-”

“No problem. Are you free for dinner?”

“Uh, sure. What time?”

“Maybe six? I think we should talk in person.”

“Sure. Yeah. Text me an address and I’ll be there.”

“I will,” Andrea said.

Dean’s phone buzzed with an address just a few minutes later and he found a place to turn around. He didn’t want to be late. The closer he got the tighter he gripped the wheel. He had to if he didn’t want his hands to start shaking. Dean wasn’t about to walk into the restaurant to see Andrea with his nerves hanging out in the open like that.

 

***

 

Dean had never felt so out of place. He was underdressed in his t-shirt and jeans compared to Andrea’s heels, bright blue dress, and jewelry, but Andrea didn’t seem to notice when she smiled at him from her table. Dean took his seat and picked up the menu.

“Nice place.”

“Benny likes it here, so I thought it was as good a place as any.”

Dean scanned the menu. It was so much easier to focus on the crisp, clean words than on what he and Andrea were there to talk about.

“It’s all good here. You can’t go wrong.”

Dean glanced up long enough to meet Andrea’s eyes for a quick moment.

“Benny likes the gumbo,” she said with a smile.

“Well, if that’s what Benny likes, I’ll probably like it too,” Dean said.

When the waiter came he greeted her by name before she ordered for both of them. Menus retrieved, the waiter left the table and Andrea turned her dark, intelligent eyes fully on Dean.

“Benny says you’re not doing well this tour.”

Dean blushed. “I--I don’t know about that.” He took a drink from his water glass, wishing it was something harder.

Andrea reached across the table and patted his hand. “It’s okay. The first tour is the hardest and honestly it doesn’t get much easier after that.”

“They’ve been out before. I know how it works.”

“But this time you’re invested,” Andrea said. “The long absence can really mess with your head. That’s why the wives and girlfriends get together regularly. We have to support each other.”

The waiter returned with salads just as Dean started to protest. He thanked the waiter instead and then poked at the salad with his fork under the guise of eating it.

“I know about Benny’s arm by the way,” Andrea said.

Dean stuttered, trying to provide an answer but Andrea shook her head.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she said. “I know he told all the boys in his unit to keep quiet, but they don’t, and the wives and girlfriends talk.”

“He doesn’t want you to worry,” Dean said.

Andrea smiled and looked down into her salad. “I know.”

Their entrees appeared, a big steaming bowl of gumbo for each of them. Dean ventured a bite, even though it was obviously hot. “That’s so good. No wonder Benny likes it here.”

Andrea looked around fondly. “He says it reminds him of home. And it reminds me of him when he’s gone.” She offered a strained smile, and stirred her gumbo. “It’s all his favorite foods, the atmosphere, the... “ Andrea trailed off for a moment, and her lip trembled before she continued. “Everyone thinks I’m strange for coming here and reminding myself of him on purpose, but it helps me feel closer to him.”

“Have you heard from him lately?” Dean asked.

“No, they moved somewhere without access about two weeks ago.”

Dean swallowed hard. He didn’t know Andrea well, even though she and Benny had been married for two years. She had been forthcoming with him so far, so he decided to risk a question.

“What does that mean exactly?” he asked before taking another bite.

Andrea’s face softened and she shrugged. “It can mean a lot of things. I try not to think about it. I pray until Benny contacts me again.”

Cold wicked its way through Dean’s body. “How long will that be?”

“They don’t get to tell us that.” Dean sat back and Andrea offered a grim smile. “It’s hard at first, but you get used to being with a man who can’t tell you anything.”

“We’re not together,” Dean said softly. “Not yet.”

“Really? I’m sorry. I thought--I mean, from what Benny said I thought you two finally-”

“We’re talking,” Dean said.

Realization widened Andrea’s eyes. “Except Cas can’t talk to you right now.”

“Yeah.”

She reached across the table again, her hand over his and she waited until Dean raised his eyes to look at her. “He’s fine. They all watch out for each other, and you know you can trust Benny to take care of Cas.”

“I know,” Dean said. He would trust Benny with his own life, but he knew from previous conversations with Cas just how easily someone in a unit could be killed or injured. Benny himself had been one of the injuries this tour.

“You call me again when you start to worry,” Andrea said. “We can worry together.”

When they went their separate ways, Dean drove again. He had no idea where he was going, but the idea of going back to his apartment was too much. He was driving himself crazy pacing the floor while he waited for some sign from Cas that everything was okay.

His phone lit up, Sam’s name centered on the screen over a picture from his last birthday party. Dean didn’t want to talk, and Sam would try to make him. Dean flipped the phone face down on the seat. The streets were getting familiar, but Dean wasn’t sure why until he passed the burger place and stopped in front of Pamela’s.

Dean wasn’t sure why he’d done it--why he’d driven there, stopped, why he got out of the car and walked up the steps of her front porch. He didn’t have to knock; she had the door open before he reached the top.

“Hi, Dean.”

“Do you… do you have a minute?” he asked.

Pamela smiled. “For you, yes.” She held the door wide open and followed him in. Dean sat on the couch in her office and Pamela stood next to her chair, looking him over. “You okay?” she asked.

“Uh, I’m here, so…”

“So, no.” Pamela smiled, reassuring and warm. “Catch me up.”

Dean took a deep breath, looked down at the rug covering her wood floor. “Do you remember my roommate Cas?”

“Soldier boy, right? Dark hair, blue eyes, great smile?”

“Yeah, I’m in love with him and I’m pretty sure he’s dead somewhere right now.”

Pamela paused, but only for a moment. “Is he deployed right now?”

Dean nodded, blinking so he wouldn’t cry, and keeping his eyes on the floor just in case he did. “I haven’t heard from him in 13 days. He said contact would be difficult for a while, but it’s been a while and still nothing.” He laced his fingers together to hide the way his hands shook.

“Then maybe it really is just a communication lapse. Is there anyone else you can talk to that would know more about how the communications work?”

“You remember Benny and Andrea?” Dean waited for Pamela’s affirmation before he continued. “I had dinner with Andrea tonight, and she said we just have to wait.”

“Then, you’ll have to wait.”

“But what if something happened?” Dean’s stomach lurched at the idea, the gumbo suddenly stiff in his gut.

“They notify family, right? Would they notify you for Cas?”

“No, his sister.”

“Maybe you could check in with her to make sure everything is okay.”

“She’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“But is she reasonable?” Dean looked up at her and Pamela shrugged. “I’m just saying that maybe if you call and tell her you’re worried she might be a reasonable person and tell you when she last heard from her brother.”

He was already anxious, but the thought of making the call made everything worse. Dean shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You could have Sam call for you.”

“No. No, I don’t want to bother him.” He didn’t want to call Anna either, though. Cas was probably fine. How many times had he done this and come back fine? Three times, and he was almost through one more. And he had an entire unit to rely on. And…

Dean dug his phone out of his pocket and found Anna’s number. It rang and rang, and Dean closed his eyes. He couldn’t leave her a message.

But then Anna answered. “Dean. Why are you calling?” A spark of anger flared in her civil words, but Dean got right to his question.

“Is Cas okay? I mean, have you heard from him?”

“I called you when I got his most recent letter.”

“Nothing since? No email?”

Dean could hear her breathe on the other end of the line, but she didn’t say anything for a long moment. “He’s fine,” Anna said, softer than before. “This happens sometimes. He goes places where he can’t make contact. That’s part of why he started out writing me by hand.”

Tears rushed suddenly and Dean turned his back on Pamela to wipe his face. “You think so?”

“Yes. I would… I would let you know if something happened.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Call again if you need to,” Anna said. “I don’t mind talking about Cas.”

Pamela kept quiet after Dean ended the call and slid his phone into his pocket. He turned back toward her and shrugged. “She hasn’t heard anything.”

“What can you do the next time you’re worried?”

Dean laughed, dry and short. “Next time? Like it ever stops?”

Pamela leaned toward him. Dean waited for her to reach out to him, but she stayed solely focused on his eyes. “That’s why you need a plan.”

 

***

 

Dean followed Charlie out to her car after movie night was over, carrying the bag of groceries Jess had shoved his way as he left. He’d found a gas gift card at the bottom of the last one, and he wondered if there’d be another one in the bag he was carrying. The Impala was parked until he could find an interview of some kind. Kevin and Sam had both asked how the job hunt was going. He can only say “still looking” so many times.

“I have to find a job _yesterday_ ,” Dean said once they got on the road back to his place.

“Let me talk to my friend Gilda. She’s been bartending while going to school and doing pretty well.”

“I’m not a bartender.”

“She wasn’t either, but she learned,” Charlie said. “I can help quiz you.”

“I don’t have time for that. Cas gets home in 33 days.”

Charlie glanced at him for a moment for looking back at the road. “Cas won’t care what kind of job you have.”

“I’m a mechanic. I need a mechanic job,” Dean said, voice escalating with each word.

“Dean, he really won’t care.”

“He’s going to care when he comes home expecting me to have my shit together and he finds out I’m unemployed and can’t even fucking finish unpacking after living there for months. MONTHS, Charlie, and there are still boxes stacked up in my living room!” He didn’t realize he was yelling until he was out of breath at the end. Dean leaned against the passenger door.

“When do you see Pamela again?” Charlie asked softly.

“I don’t know. Like Thursday or something.”

“Okay,” Charlie said. “Can I stay over tonight?”

Dean rubbed his temple. “You know I can tell when you’re trying to babysit me, right?”

“You know you just lost your mind on me a second ago, right?”

“I’m sorry-” Dean started.

“I don’t need an apology. Let me help you. Would you see Pamela tomorrow if she’s available?”

“I don’t know, Charlie.”

“How many days since you got an email from Cas?”

“24.” He didn’t have to guess or count. The number rolled out of his mouth like he’d rehearsed it a thousand times.

“You need to talk about all this before it gets worse,” Charlie said. “Will you see her tomorrow if I can get it set up?”

Dean rolled his eyes but agreed. Whatever would get her to back off.

 

***

 

Sam made the appointment for him. Dean used the gas card from Jess to fill up and get there. He was only a couple of minutes late when he walked up to her front porch, his phone buzzing with an alert just as he reached the top of the steps. He checked it before knocking and his mouth went dry when he saw Cas’s hotwings address.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I’m so sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been able to email_

“Too nervous to knock?” Pamela asked, but then she nodded to his phone. “Important text?”

“Uh, Cas just emailed.”

“Good! Is he okay?”

“I just started reading it.”

“Well, sit down and finish,” she said, motioning to the porch swing. “I’ll be inside whenever you’re ready.”

Dean sat down and took a deep breath before reading again.

 

 

> _Dear Dean,_
> 
> _I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been able to email. There were unexpected delays in communications. We are all well here, and I hope you have not been too anxious during the wait._
> 
> _I read all the emails you sent. I should have messaged you first thing, but I couldn’t stop reading them. I’ll try to make up for the time I missed. I enjoy reading about what you’ve been up to and how everyone else is doing. It won’t be long until we’re home again._
> 
> _I’m sorry this message is quick, but I swear I’ll be back to write again tomorrow. I should be able to write up until about a week before we’re due back. I’ll make the most of it._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Cas_

Dean’s eyes burned. Cas was just fine. He’d hear from him again the next day. He stood up with a new energy and went inside to meet Pamela in her office.

“How’s Cas?” she asked after Dean took up his place on her couch.

“Good. He said he’ll write again tomorrow.”

“How many days until he gets home?”

“32.”

“You’re almost there,” Pamela said.

“I guess,” Dean said.

“Have you been writing to him every day still?”

Dean nodded. “Of course.”

“Sam said your friend Charlie is pretty worried about you.”

“I kind of unloaded on her about the job thing. I overdid it. I’m fine really,” Dean said.

“Still no leads?”

“Not yet.”

“Have you considered other jobs?” Pamela asked. “There are a lot of things you can apply for.”

“Well, I’m a mechanic,” Dean started.

“But you can get a job doing something else until you find a mechanic job again.”

“I guess.”

“Dean, can I ask you some questions?”

Dean laughed, but it came out hard and sarcastic. “That’s what you do every week.”

Pamela shrugged. “That’s true. I was just wondering how you’re sleeping?” she asked.

Dean cringed at the question. “I sleep some, I guess.” _Some_ was a better answer than _all the fucking time_.

“You’re under a lot of stress, Dean. The last time I saw you look like this was when you first came to me a few years ago. Do you remember the medication you took back-”

“I’m not doing that again.”

“Dean, it helped a lot last time once you started to sleep better.”

Dean stood, fists balled at his sides. “I sleep all the time and it doesn’t help. You know what would fucking help? If I could get a goddamn job!”

He turned on her and stormed out before Pamela even had a chance to stand. He tore down the sidewalk and threw himself into the Impala. He had to get back on the road, get back to the apartment. Pamela didn’t understand. Cas was going to be back in just a few weeks. There were boxes to unpack still and he hadn’t exactly mentioned the loss of his job in any of his emails to Cas. Sleep wasn’t the problem at all--Dean was.


	15. Cas

“You’re bouncing in your seat, cher.” Benny shook his head at Cas.

“Like a puppy,” Balthazar added.

Cas gave them both a stern look, but truthfully he was about two seconds away from pressing his nose up against the glass like a child. The plane had started its descent and the airport below them grew larger. Anna would be waiting like she always did, but this time so would Dean. That thought was equal parts exciting and terrifying and his heart thumped accordingly.

They’d been writing regularly, and Dean had so much to say about his life at the new place, the routines he’d established, and how he planned to fold Cas into all of it. The anticipation was eating him from the inside out. He wanted to see Dean, to touch his face and hold him close so he knew for sure it was all real.

“Sit your ass down,” Benny said under his breath. “You can’t see him from here.”

“Sorry,” Cas muttered. He looked down into his lap and clenched his hands together. It did nothing to help him calm down.

The plane landed and he waited like everyone else for his turn to stand up, grab his bag and go down the aisle toward the door. Cas took a deep breath at the top of the stairs that would lead him to the tarmac. The sun blinded him for a moment as he stepped out. He could tell there was a crowd of people all waiting on loved ones, but he couldn’t find his people right away. His feet hit pavement and he scanned the crowd. Anna’s hair was easy to spot and he went to her, still looking around for Dean. Surely they’d be together. Surely-

Sam popped up next to Anna, and Cas slowed, still looking for Dean.

“Lose your nerve?” Benny cuffed him on the shoulder, and when Cas scanned the crowd again he recognized Andrea close to Anna. Benny took up a slow jog, and Andrea broke through the crowd to meet him in a joyful reunion. Cas followed, and Anna hugged him tight around the waist. Cas dropped his bag to the ground and he hugged her back automatically, his eyes on Sam.

“Welcome home, Cas,” Sam said when Anna released him. He hugged him too, but when he pulled back he’d lost his smile.

Cas didn’t want to ask. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t like the answer, but he had to know. “Where’s Dean?”

“Why don’t we talk about it in the car on the way home?” Anna suggested. Sam was already lifting Cas’s bag.

Cas blinked, suddenly numb except for a slow burn in his chest. _He changed his mind now that I’m coming home, it’s not what he wants,_ I’m _not what he wants._

“Cas, you coming?” Sam asked. He and Anna had both turned back to look at him. Cas looked around. Everyone around him was hugging their friends, their family- there were tears everywhere.

“Castiel,” Benny said firmly and Cas looked over at him. He had his arm around Andrea, and the burning in Cas’s chest expanded at the sight. “Everything okay?”

Cas looked him in the eye and Benny left Andrea to sling an arm around Cas. “There’s a reason for this,” he said low in Cas’s ear. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s probably not what you’re thinking.”

“He changed his mind,” Cas mumbled to him.

“You don’t know that, cher,” Benny said as he squeezed his shoulders tight.

“I’m sorry, Cas. It’s not bad that he’s not here,” Sam said. “It’s just different than what you planned, okay? He has something for you at the apartment. I’m going to drive you there.”

Cas nodded feebly. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled. “You know Dean. He can’t do anything the way anyone else would do it. Ready to go home?”

“Yeah,” Cas agreed and followed along.

***

They pulled up to a tall brick apartment building and Sam grinned at him through the rearview mirror. “Home sweet home for you, Cas.”

They all emptied onto the sidewalk and Sam went to the trunk, hefting Cas’s heavy duffle out onto his shoulder again.

“I can take that,” Cas said.

“Absolutely not.”

Anna pressed a key into Cas’s hand, and he stared at it for a moment before realizing it was his and it belonged to the apartment he and Dean shared. “I’m going to go home,” Anna said. “but I’ll expect to see you at the party tomorrow. Andrea set it up for the whole unit, and all the families are invited. Six o’clock, okay?” She laughed, her voice shaking as she blinked back tears. “I don’t remember where it is, but you should have an invite in your email when you check it.”

“Okay,” Cas said. He pulled her into a tight hug, and Anna pressed her face into his shoulder. She shook and he squeezed her. When she looked up, her face was streaked with tears. She wiped at his uniform.

“I’m so sorry-”

“No one cares about my uniform now that I’m home,” Cas said with a smile. He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Call me if you need me.” Anna smiled in spite of her tears. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He watched her walk down the sidewalk to her car and until she safely pulled away. He only remembered Sam when he turned back to the building.

“You ready?” Sam asked.

Cas nodded. They took the elevator up and Sam led him down a short hall to an unremarkable brown door.

“This is it,” Sam said, and he stood back while Cas unlocked it.

It was a little smaller than their last place, but not by much. The living room was neat and tidy, couch angled toward the TV and Dean’s movie collection. The bookcases Dean had bought for them framed the window, books neatly lining the shelves. Dean’s guitar sat on its stand in the corner and Cas smiled. He turned back to Sam and motioned to the guitar. “Has he been playing?”

“Not since you left,” Sam said.

It only took a few steps to get into the kitchen area. It, too, was tidy, counters clear aside from a toaster.

Cas poked his head into the bathroom, then went to the bedroom. The bed closest to the door was carefully made with his comforter, and a few boxes were stacked at the foot. Dean’s bed pressed against the far wall, and his laptop was plugged in on the nightstand. A shoebox sat in the middle of the bed and Cas stared at it.

“It’s for you from Dean,” Sam said. “I’m going to go for now. Your car is parked two blocks south on this street. Keys are in the nightstand.”

“Thanks,” Cas said, as he walked up the box. The lid popped off easily and he brushed his fingers over the four envelopes in the box. The one in front had his name on it. Cas sat on the bed and pulled it from its place. It wasn’t sealed, and there was a single page in there. Cas unfolded it and smiled at Dean’s familiar scrawl.

 

> _Dear Cas,_
> 
> _I’ve been emailing you every day since you said we wouldn’t be able to talk, and I kind of want to keep writing. So I’m taking a page from your book and writing down the things I want to say. I didn’t think it would be this hard not getting an answer back and I was thinking the other day about where you might be. You could be in danger right now and I wouldn’t know it. At least you’re with people that will watch your back._
> 
> _You said in one of your letters that you were writing things you couldn’t say out loud. I’m trying hard here, but I don’t have a lot to do right now because I don’t have a job any more. I’ve been trying hard to figure out how to tell you that, but I figure I’ll find something soon. And you don’t need to hear about the shitty parts of my life when you’re out there putting your life on the line._
> 
> _I hope you’re safe. I hope we get to talk again._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Dean_

Cas took a shaky breath. Dean had never mentioned the loss of his job in any of his emails. In fact, every single one had been positive, happy, no hint that Dean was having a hard time coping.

Cas pulled the next letter and opened it.

 

> _Dear Cas,_
> 
> _I saw Andrea yesterday. She talked to me like she thought we were already together. I told her we weren’t yet, but last night I was thinking maybe we are? I know we haven’t actually said it or anything, but I ~~think~~ hope we are. At least that you think of us as being together when you get back. I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I’m trying to decide what to say to you when I see you. I’ve been thinking about your eyes and your smile. I’m nervous every time I think about meeting you at the airport. I hope you’re thinking about all that too. I need to see you again. I have to make sure you’re okay._
> 
> _Andrea said something else that I keep thinking about. She said something about how hard it is being in a relationship with a man that can’t talk about things. She was talking about you and how you guys can’t talk about your work. I was thinking last night that it’s true about me too. I don’t know if you can get used to that or not. Maybe you’re already used to it from being friends with me, but it’s different when people are actually together. And maybe if we get together when you get back you won’t be able to stand it when I don’t talk about stuff._
> 
> _I talked to Pamela yesterday too. I have another meeting with her next week. Maybe I’ll get some shit worked out before you get back._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Dean_

He hadn’t mentioned Pamela in his emails either. Cas looked up from the letter. He knew Dean wasn’t doing well for a while, but he thought after they’d talked on the phone that everything had changed. Dean’s emails were more upbeat, focused on the things he was doing with friends and funny memories.

Dean had been covering that whole time, and Cas wondered just how bad it had gotten.

He pulled out the next letter.

 

> _Dear Cas,_
> 
> _I don’t know why I’m doing this. I know I can’t talk to you right now, but I need to. It’s been 21 days without an email and I’m fucking worried that you’re dead and I’d never know. Your sister called a few days ago and god does she hate my guts. I’m sorry I messed up with her and ruined that, and maybe ruined things with you once you find out the whole story. You’re going to come home and find out all the things I did and said and you’re going to move out. I’ll never see you again._
> 
> _I read your letters. You know that. And my dad came and said a bunch of shit, but he said true stuff too. I went to Bobby’s. Sam came and got me and I told him everything about how I feel about you, but it fucked up everything here with Anna and my job. I lost my job because I took off. The only good thing I’ve done since you’ve been gone is standing up to my dad in Kansas when I went with Bobby and Sam. Sam almost took dad out with a baseball bat. You would have liked to see that I think. The rest has pretty much been shit. I’ve been looking for a job since I got back and I can’t find anything._
> 
> _you gotta know I want you more than anything, but I can’t be right for you. I can’t even get a job or finish unpacking. I’m trying to at least help you keep your spirits up. I’m trying to write you good emails. Happy stuff you want to know. If you knew how bad I’ve done these last couple months you’d change your mind on me. I know that for sure._

Dean didn’t close out the letter with his name, much less _love_. Cas sucked in a ragged breath and closed his eyes. Dean had an endless ability to recognize his own flaws and then inflate them. Cas already knew that, but the way Dean wrote about himself broke his heart. Maybe Dean hadn’t seen Pamela at all after mentioning her in the previous letter.

And that Dean thought he wouldn’t want him any more… Cas folded up the letter and sniffed, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

The last letter was different, the handwriting more precise, less rushed but still Dean’s. It had a date at the top, written that morning.

 

> _Dear Cas,_
> 
> _I’m sorry about everything. I’ve been lying to you and trying to make everything look better than it is. Truth is I’ve been kind of lost since you left and Sam moved out._
> 
> _I’m trying to do better. I’m seeing Pamela again once a week and I got this bartending job that I’m trying like hell to learn, but I’m still new there so I’m getting crappy shifts. I finally got everything unpacked for you, except the boxes you wanted me to leave by your bed._
> 
> _I love you. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it and I know that flat out. I don’t really want you to know all the shit in those other letters, except I read all yours so I figure it’s only fair. And I don’t want you to go on a date with a guy who’s been lying to you for months. Because I have been and I’m sorry, but that’s how it is. So I couldn’t meet you and do all that. I didn’t want to do that to you._
> 
> _So it’s up to you. I get it if you want to go. I’m ready for that. I talked to Anna and she said she and Michael will help you get your stuff if that’s what you want and you can stay with them for a while. If you want to stay but just be friends I think we can figure that out._
> 
> _If you want to try to do this thing for real you can call Charlie. She knows where I’m at._
> 
> _love,_
> 
> _Dean_

Cas scrambled for his phone and dialed.

“Cas!” Charlie said.

“Charlie, is he okay?”

“He will be.” Charlie breathed in and back out in a rush. “I’m so glad you called. He thinks you’re going to leave him.”

“Why does he think that? I don’t care that he read the letters.”

“He feels like-” Charlie stopped for a moment. “I think you should ask him. I don’t want to say for him.”

“Where is he?”

Armed with an address and directions, Cas stalked down the sidewalk to his car. Dean had dubbed it “The Pimpmobile” shortly after they’d met, and he still thought of that fact every time he saw his car. He was halfway to the bar when he realized he hadn’t even taken the time to change out of his uniform before going after Dean.

The bar was a true hole-in-the-wall with a tiny sign over a door that proclaimed “ _Happy Hour 3-6!_ ” on the alley side of a building. It was hard to find parking though, and when Cas went inside the place was packed for a Friday afternoon. Dean was behind the counter with two other people, a smile plastered on his face as he spoke with customers, but Cas could tell how overwhelmed he was by the look in his eyes. Still, his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest as he watched Dean work.

Cas found a table where he could see Dean, but wait for everything to die down.

“What can I get you?” A waitress with honey brown curls smiled at him when he looked up.

“Uh, nothing. Water? I’m waiting on someone.”

“You can order for your friend too and it’ll be ready when they get here.” She offered a glowing look, pen poised over her little notepad.

“He’s here. Uh, Dean Winchester? Behind the bar?” Cas looked over at him, working hard getting drinks out. “I’m waiting until his shift is over. I can move if you don’t want me to take up the table.”

The young woman was staring him right in the face when he looked back at her. “Are you Cas?” she asked.

“I am,” Cas said, brow furrowed.

“Um. Give me a minute,” she said before she ran off. Cas watched her twist and turn through the crowd until she made her way behind the counter. Dean bent an ear to her when she beckoned, and then he looked up, eyes wide like Cas was the last person in the world he expected to see.

Air stopped in Cas’s chest and his head thumped with the rush of blood as he watched Dean duck his head to listen to the waitress a little longer before he disappeared through a doorway that led somewhere else. _He didn’t expect me to come. He doesn’t understand how I feel, he doesn’t-_

Dean walked up to his table and Cas stood up awkwardly when he saw him. Somehow he could breathe again. “Hello, Dean.”

“You came,” Dean said, confusion playing over his face.

Cas couldn’t stop looking over every inch of Dean’s face. He was thinner than the last time they’d seen each other, but his intense eyes hadn’t changed a bit. “Of course I did,” Cas said.

“Gilda’s going to cover for me until Andy can get here, so… I’m free to go.”

“Lead the way,” Cas said, and Dean motioned with his head.

Cas followed him through the waiting people and down a narrow hallway where the bathrooms were. An exit sign illuminated the end of the hallway, and Dean opened the door for Cas. It opened into a small parking lot bright with late afternoon sun, and Cas spotted the Impala in the back corner.

“Cas, I gotta know why you’re here.” Dean paced the short sidewalk that led to the parking lot.

Cas almost laughed. It was ridiculous to him that there would be any reason but his love for Dean, but Dean stood there in front of him trying to force his face emotionless. He wanted to comfort Dean, but not until he knew where they stood. “You said to call Charlie if I wanted to do this for real. I read your letters and came here because I love you and nothing has changed that.”

“I lied to you,” Dean said.

“I know, but I understand why.”

Dean stared at him, lips pressed together harder and harder until his chin quivered. “Don’t… don’t say it’s okay- what I did,” he finally said.

“We’ll work it out,” Cas said, eyes focused on Dean’s as he stepped closer to him. Dean stilled when Cas moved in front of him.

“Cas, you can’t-”

“You asked me to come home to you and I did.” Cas wanted to beg Dean to believe him over all the things that he’d written in the letters. He wanted to demand that Dean hear the truth about himself, but instead Cas held his breath as Dean’s eyes darted over his face.

“I don’t understand,” Dean said, voice low.

“You’re worth whatever we have to get through, Dean,” Cas said. “I don’t know what else to say except that I love you.”

“Cas, I…” Dean’s voice broke and his head dropped. Cas grabbed his shoulder and pulled him close. Dean moved easily into his arms, and he pressed his face into Cas’s neck. He clung to Cas, painfully tight, and Cas held him just as hard.

“Why?” Dean finally got out, breath warm on Cas’s skin.

“It would take me a thousand years to tell you every reason. Mostly it’s because you’re you.”

“But I’m-”

Cas cut him off. “You’re what? Kind? Good to people? Loyal? ”

“Stop,” Dean insisted, and pulled away, but Cas wouldn’t let him all the way out of his arms.

“Thoughtful? Intelligent? Passionate?”

“Liar, worthless, selfish-” Dean started, his eyes lowered in shame.

Cas ducked down to catch Dean’s gaze and held it fast. “Don’t put your dad’s words in my mouth.”

Dean clenched his teeth and a muscle in his jaw jumped.

“Listen, I want to be with you,” Cas said. He relaxed his hold on Dean and let his arms fall to his sides. “But if you’re not ready or you changed your mind you have to tell me.”

“I didn’t… change my mind, Cas,” Dean shook his head. “I thought I was ready to see you and then I saw you sitting there and… jesus fucking christ- I can’t be with you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Cas said. Dean looked into Cas’s eyes, but they shook with unshed tears. “I love you,” Cas said, “and you said in your letter that you know you love me.” He waited until Dean nodded just enough to knock one tear over the edge and down his cheek.

“So give me a chance, okay?” Cas asked. “I’ve waited a long time for this.” His voice shook with the last word and he hoped it would be enough to make Dean understand that everything was okay between them.

“Can I kiss you, Cas?” Dean asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Please,” Cas said, and Dean pressed his lips to Cas’s in a desperate but chaste connection. When he pulled away, he only left enough space between them for their eyes to refocus on each other. 

“You came home to me,” he whispered, and kissed Cas again.


	16. Connection

Dean only let go of Cas’s hand long enough to get in the car. The second he slammed his door closed he grabbed a hold of Cas, working their fingers together until they fit tight. Dean looked over his shoulder before he backed out and didn’t say a word as they drove back to the apartment, leaving Cas to wonder what he was thinking. They’d said enough to decide to leave Cas’s car behind and go home, but Dean had gone quiet after that.

Cas watched him from the side. He was allowed to now. If they were together he was allowed to look his fill. Dean was thinner, yes, but Cas was more concerned over his demeanor. Dean’s eyes skimmed the road ahead of him, but didn’t give away any hint of emotion. Cas looked away. It felt rude to keep looking when Dean so obviously didn’t want to communicate.

They parked about a block from their building, and Dean jumped out of the car to meet Cas before Cas could even get his door open. Dean took Cas’s hand again and they walked toward their place in silence.

Dean unlocked the door and held it open for Cas, following right behind. Cas waited for him to lock the door back and tried to decide what to do next. Should he ask? Just start talking? Dean stood there awkwardly, holding onto Cas’s hand, unable to look him in the eye.

“You probably want to change out of that,” Dean said, nodding to Cas’s uniform.

Cas waited for Dean to look up before he answered, to connect with him again. “I’ll be right back,” Cas said, and squeezed Dean’s hand before he let go. Cas caught the flicker of distress that went over Dean’s face when he did, but he had to go. He needed space to think.

Cas closed the bedroom door behind him and sat on his bed next to his bag. He moved slowly, retrieving a t-shirt and pants while he tried to decide what to do. No one had said anything to him about how Dean had changed over the time Cas was away; maybe they couldn’t see it, or they thought veiled hints were enough to convey the seriousness of Dean’s depression. It was way too close to how Dean had been after Ellen’s funeral.

Cas treated his uniform with care, and after he’d changed he took a deep breath before going back out. Dean stood exactly where Cas had left him.

“Everything okay?” Cas asked.

“Sorry. Just… it’s so much… having you here finally,” Dean said and Cas nodded. At least he knew what to do with overwhelmed Dean. They’d worked through it together before. He pointed Dean to the couch and sat with him.

“Movie? Or TV? Whatever is fine with me,” Cas said.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. You pick.”

Cas moved quick. _Star Wars Episode IV_ was the easy and obvious choice. They both knew it so well--maybe if the jokes and quoted lines came easy Dean would be able to talk about other things. Cas set everything up and took his place on the couch next to Dean.

Dean didn't reach for his hand.

Cas waited, but Dean sat stiffly next to him while the opening music played.

Cas reached for Dean instead. He rubbed small circles over the back of Dean’s hand, and tried not to watch for a reaction. Dean relaxed as they watched together, first by closing fingers around Cas’s, then through his shoulders. Cas abandoned Dean’s hand in favor of putting his arm around him. He expected Dean to stay just as tense, but once Cas settled his arm around him Dean pressed into Cas’s side and laid his head on Cas’s shoulder.

Right after Han shot Greedo, Dean sighed. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I planned this all out with Pamela and I haven't said any of it. There's so much to talk about and I haven't said any of it.” Dean sat up as he spoke, his agitation growing with each word.

“I'm in no hurry,” Cas said. “We have time.”

“You don’t understand,” Dean said, but it lacked the conviction of his previous words.

“You told me on the phone that you had things to tell me in person,” Cas said. “We can start there.”

Cas waited for Dean to pull away, but Dean stayed in place, breathing deep.

“We kind of did things backwards,” Dean said.

“What do you mean?”

“We haven’t even gone on a date but we’ve already said ‘I love you’ to each other.”

Cas smiled, warmth spreading across his chest. “That’s fine with me.”

“You don’t think this is awkward? You having your arm around me?” Dean lifted his head from Cas’s shoulder and shifted to look at him.

“No. Do you?”

“No, but, I mean we were friends and now we’re…” Dean’s bright eyes dropped briefly to Cas’s mouth before they popped back up. “I don’t know. What are we, Cas?”

Cas smiled and Dean did the same, though his smile was much more uncertain. “What do you want us to be?”

Dean considered and took a deep breath. “Together. Boyfriends, if you want to call it that.”

“I want us to be together too,” Cas said.

“So… we’re doing that then. We’re together. And we just… tell everyone that.”

“We don’t have to do that right now,” Cas said. His eyes flicked to Dean’s lips and back. “Was kissing me awkward?”

Dean blushed and Cas smiled. “No,” Dean said.

“So we can do that again,” Cas said softly, telegraphing his intent to give Dean time to back out.

Dean kissed him first, slow and cautious. Cas opened for him easily, but let Dean lead. The anticipation that Cas had carried since their telephone conversation almost two months earlier melted into something else. Dean was kissing him, and Cas wasn’t sure he would ever get over that fact.

“Can we just stay here?” Dean asked, out of breath. “Just the two of us?”

Cas looked into his earnest eyes as his heart pounded in his chest. “We have to eat.”

Dean grinned, and that familiar light came back to his face. He looked like himself again. “We’ll order in.” Dean pushed Cas back on the couch and kissed his neck.

“We would run out of movies,” Cas teased.

“Why do you think Netflix was invented,” Dean’s humid breath hit his skin and a chill went through Cas’s body. This was really happening. Dean was really there, kissing him, touching him. He pushed his fingers through Dean’s hair and Dean made a wonderful sound.

“I missed you,” Cas said, and Dean stopped. He pressed his forehead against Cas’s neck and Cas held him tighter when his body began to shake.

“I missed you too,” Dean said against Cas’s skin. Cas rubbed Dean’s back slowly, one long stroke down and another back up over and over until Dean relaxed against him. Dean didn’t resume the playful touches or gentle kisses, but shifted his weight to lay next to Cas. Cas moved with him to make room and waited for Dean to look him in the eye.

Cas smiled, and took Dean’s hand. Dean smiled too--his old smile--and Cas knew they were going to be okay.

 

***

 

Cas reached for his neck first thing. He was stiff all over, but his neck was the worst. Dean snored away, one leg and an arm over Cas’s body. The couch wasn’t very wide, but they’d managed to make it to the early morning hours without either of them falling off.

“Dean,” he said softly. Your bed is bigger.”

Dean mumbled back to him and shifted like he was going to get up only to pull himself in tighter against Cas’s warm body.

“My neck is killing me,” Cas said a little louder that time. He started to extricate himself, but Dean thwarted his every move until Cas was half laughing and half frustrated.

Dean smiled lazily and cracked an eye. “Getting up is a terrible idea,” he said.

“The bed is bigger than this couch,” Cas said. “And it has pillows. And it’s long enough to actually sleep on.” Cas worked harder to get up and Dean actually pushed himself up to sitting.

“Did the pillows convince you?” Cas said.

“No,” Dean said, eyes still mostly closed as he followed Cas to the bedroom. Cas pulled the blankets back and Dean crawled in as far as he could. Cas tucked in behind him.

Dean pressed back against him and pulled Cas’s arm over him. “This is better,” he said, his words slurring with drowsiness. Cas pressed his forehead to the back of Dean’s head, the short hairs prickling his skin. He ran a light hand against Dean’s chest until he felt Dean’s body relax and his breathing go steady. It was still a tight fit with the two of them together, but at least now Cas had a pillow under his head and a flat surface to sleep on.

One day earlier he’d been on a plane, eager and ready to get home to Dean. Now Dean was literally in his arms and it was nothing like he imagined. They knew almost everything about each other, but this was new and different. Touching Dean, sleeping in the same bed with him… Cas had expected time to grow to this point, but Dean needed him--needed this. Cas was happy to give him what he could, but he hoped that Dean would figure out how to talk about this thing between them soon. What they’d said on the couch had been a good start, but there was still a lot to say.

 

***

 

“Hey.”

Warm air puffed against Cas’s cheek and he smiled even though he didn’t open his eyes.

“If we get up I’ll make pancakes,” Dean said.

“If we get up we won’t be in bed any more,” Cas said, and Dean lay back down, his head against Cas’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything and Cas rolled to face him. “Do you really want to make pancakes?”

“I kinda do.” Dean’s cheeks colored and Cas’s chest went tight. “If you want some. Or we can go get something.”

Dean looked up at him and Cas couldn’t help it. He kissed Dean light and quick on the mouth, and Dean made a surprised sound. Cas looked at him, and Dean rubbed the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed.

“You still want to do that,” Dean said. “I thought I maybe chased you off last night.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cas said.

A flash of something Cas had never seen before went across Dean’s face, but he cleared it away with a smile and leaned in to kiss Cas again.

When they finally got out of bed Dean made good on his pancake promise while Cas was in the shower. When Cas opened the bathroom door dressed in fresh clothes and hair still damp the room smelled sweet and wonderful. Cas accepted the plate Dean had made for him, suddenly starving.

“Holy fuck,” Cas said. “These are amazing,”

“Since when do you swear like that?” Dean asked, even though he was smiling.

“Too much Balthazar,” Cas shoved another bite in his mouth and groaned.

“Need some time alone with your meal?” Dean laughed at him and Cas looked up. This was the Dean he knew--joking around, laughing, a light across his face.

“Do you mind playing second fiddle to a stack of pancakes?” Cas asked.

“Don’t let me get in your way,” Dean teased before he took a bite of his own stack.

Cas washed the dishes while Dean took his shower. They had no plans until the party at the community center. He had questions for Dean- how did he know his feelings had changed? What exactly happened with John? And why did he run to Bobby’s? Sam had only given Cas the barest sketch of what had happened while he was gone, insisting that it was Dean’s story to tell. Cas had no idea if Dean would ever tell it, and there were some parts of the story Cas felt he needed to know before they went on.

Cas was wiping the counters down when Dean appeared, rubbing a towel over his hair.

“We have a couple hours until we have to be there,” Dean said. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m flexible,” Cas said and Dean grinned.

“Sounds like an invitation.” Dean draped his towel over his shoulder on his way to Cas’s side. “You almost done with that?” he asked. Dean pressed his chest to Cas’s back, and put his arms around him. It was a sweet gesture, but heat flooded Cas’s body. He wanted Dean, had waited and pined for Dean, but they had to talk. There was more to say before their relationship could really go any where.

“Couch?” Cas asked, and Dean nodded, his chin knocking against Cas’s shoulder.

Dean followed him, arm slung around Cas’s waist. Dean sat first, fingers trailing over Cas’s back, and Cas went to the far end. Dean frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I was just hoping we could talk about a few things.”

Dean sat up straight, and his face had gone flat again just like the day before.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Cas said. “We’re good. I just need to know…” Now that it was time to ask, Cas wasn’t sure he could--not with Dean looking away from him, body stiff like he had to protect himself. He thought they needed space to talk but he was wrong.

“Dean,” Cas said as he scooted closer. He took Dean’s hand and Dean stared at their connection. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing wrong here, I just… you asked me ‘why’ yesterday and I have to admit to wondering the same thing.”

“What?” Confusion painted Dean’s face. “Cas--”

“Because I’ve wanted this for a long time and I just--suddenly you like me too, and maybe it’s just because of what you read in those letters, but I’ve been looking forward to this ever since we talked on the phone, and now you’re here and what if you…” Cas broke off, realizing he’d rambled. He tried to pull his hand back, but Dean held fast.

“Cas, come on. Look at me.”

Cas swung his eyes up to meet Dean’s and tried to breathe.

“I read the letters, yeah, but I was already… I had thought about you like that some before, but we were friends and that was important to me.” Dean stopped and took a shaking breath. “I mean--I didn’t want to lose you.” He looked down into trembling hands and Cas’s chest burned with the need to comfort him. His hand turned soft in Dean’s and he squeezed back. Cas scooted closer so their knees touched.

“Charlie told me to do it,” Dean said. “She said I had to tell you how I felt.”

“I’ve always liked her,” Cas said, and the corner of Dean’s mouth turned up.

“Please don’t think this is some kind of… confusion,” Dean said “I felt this way before the letters, I just didn’t… I didn’t think about it that hard. I wanted to make sure you stayed.”

“You always had me,” Cas said.

“I know that now,” Dean mumbled, and hunched in on himself.

Cas released Dean’s hand and put his arms around him instead. Dean dropped his head to Cas’s shoulder and gripped him tight. “Please don’t think I want anyone else but you,” Dean said into his ear, and Cas nodded against him. There was more to say, but it could all wait. Dean would tell him the whole story when he was ready, but for now Cas knew everything he needed to know.

 

***

 

Dean held Cas’s hand all the way to Sam and Jess’s and then squeezed it before he got out of the car. “Stay there,” he said.

Cas watched as Dean jumped out and stalked around to the passenger door. He open it for him with a little nod and Cas laughed as he got out.

“Look at that,” Charlie said as she came down the sidewalk. “I need that kind of service. And that kind of parking spot. How’d you get so close?”

Dean grinned at her. “Magic,” he said as he closed Cas’s door. He slid his hand into Cas’s.

Charlie looked pointedly at their joined hands then back up. “I take it you guys got some things worked out,” she said.

Dean looked at Cas and Cas grinned. “I think so. Dean?”

“Yeah.” he said, and smiled bright.

“I don’t wanna know,” she said, hands up like she was telling them to back off.

Upstairs Cas made the rounds hugging Sam, Jess, and Kevin, and when he turned around Dean was gone. Jess laughed at his expression and pointed him in the right direction.

Dean was pouring chips into bowls when Cas stepped into the kitchen, his back toward the door.

“Jess, I couldn’t find any salsa. Did you mean-” He stopped when he saw it was Cas, but grinned wide. “You’re not Jess.”

“No, but I can go get her,” Cas said.

Dean caught his arm and pulled him closer. “We don’t need her,” Dean kissed him, soft at first but then more serious.

“But the salsa,” Cas teased, and Dean laughed but kissed him again.

“Stop making out in my kitchen,” Sam said loudly. Cas and Dean broke apart and looked at him, equal parts embarrassed and concerned.

Sam laughed and shook his head. “Is this what I should expect from now on?”

Cas looked at Dean. He thought he knew what Dean’s answer would be, but he didn’t want to put words in his mouth. Dean grinned, “Probably,” he said. “Shield your eyes, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Bonus chapter ahead...


	17. Epilogue

_2 Years Later_

 

“You seem agitated,” Pamela said.

“You're goddamn right I’m agitated,” Dean muttered.

She waited on him, but Dean didn’t say anything else. He squirmed under her attention, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You have more to say than that,” Pamela said. “We can sit and stare at each other or you can put it out there.”

Dean eyed her before he shook his head. “I hate counting down to the end.”

“Why?” Pamela asked.

Dean didn’t look up. “It’s harder than knowing he’ll be gone a long time.”

“He’s almost home, though.”

“Yeah, but there’s this feeling like…” Dean shifted in his seat, arms relaxing. “Like if I get hopeful about Cas being here something terrible is going to happen. Like it’s three days away, but something can still happen to him.”

“Something can always happen. It can happen to you or me or Cas any day. He doesn’t have to go overseas for that.”

“I know.” Dean looked down at his hands. “But I’ve spent five months waiting and… and I don’t know what I’d do if-” he breathed in suddenly, noisy as he tried to regain control.

Pamela didn’t say anything until he met her eyes again. “Are you ready for him to come home?” she asked.

“Yeah. Place is clean- spotless, really, and I’m going to cook for him and… yeah. It’s good.”

“That’s all great, but I asked if you’re ready.”

Dean smiled cautiously. “I think so.”

“There’s going to be re-entry for both of you.”

“We did that before. It’ll be okay.”

“That was a little different. You had that whole “new relationship” thing working for you when you should have been dealing with re-entry.”

“I think it’ll be good,” Dean said, and for the first time that session his smile brightened into something genuine.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Pamela said. “You’ve done really well this tour,”

Dean laughed under his breath. “What does that mean? Cas is doing the hard work.”

“Don’t diminish your side of this. You stayed focused on the right things. Communicating, letting people help you, staying connected to your friends and family here.” She paused for a moment and tilted her head to the side. “I’m really proud of you, Dean.”

Dean looked down again, his face burning at the unexpected compliment. “I--uh--there’s still a lot of work I have to do.”

Pamela laughed, and he looked up, surprised at her reaction. “You just described all of us,” she said. “Everyone has work to do.”

 

***

 

“You look happy,” Gilda said.

“Do I?” Dean asked.

“More than you have in at least a month,” Charlie said. Mondays had a steady but slower crowd, and she’d made a habit of coming in once a week under the guise of hanging out with Dean. Dean was pretty sure it had more to do with Gilda than with him. “What’s up?” Charlie asked.

“I thought that was kind of obvious,” Dean said.

“Well, yeah, Cas coming home, but you seemed really anxious about that last week.”

“Maybe I have all my ducks in a row now.”

A group of college guys walked in and Gilda met them at the far end of the counter.

“I didn’t realize you had ducks to line up,” Charlie said.

Dean shrugged. “It took a while, but…” Dean couldn’t keep his smile from spreading. “Two days, you know?”

“Yes, and then we won’t see you for a week because you’ll be screwing Cas’s brains out,” Charlie said.

“I actually did take a couple days off work,” Dean said, a playful gleam in his eye.

“Oh, god…” Charlie rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you’re crazy in love, but I don’t need to know about your nighttime goings-on.”

“Who says we only do it at night?” Dean wagged his eyebrows and Charlie cracked up. Dean grabbed a towel and started wiping the counter down.

“Hey, can you come to the airport with me on Thursday?” Dean asked.

“Sure. Everything okay?”

“Just nervous, I guess.”

Charlie reached over the bar and grabbed his arm. “You have no reason to be nervous.”

“I guess,” Dean said, and wiped the counter a little harder.

 

***

 

“God-fucking-dammit!” Dean screamed into his mirror. There were only so many ways he knew how to tie a tie and his fingers had forgotten all of them. He whipped the tie from around his neck and threw it on the bed before he sat heavily on it. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to breathe through the anger and frustration.

Dean had been on edge from the moment he woke up that morning. The fitful night’s sleep hadn’t helped. He tried to focus his eyes on one place, focus his breathing, and pull himself together. His heart slowed in his chest and after a few minutes he was ready to try again. He worked his way through one more attempt, then pulled it out with shaking hands. Cas was going to have to make do with a plain white dress shirt.  _Who needs a tie, anyway?_

His hands shook as he drove and parked at the airport. Sam and Jess were waiting when he walked up.

“You look gorgeous,” Jess said as she hugged Dean.

“Hey, now,” Sam feigned annoyance.

Jess patted his arm. “You too, dear,”

Sam huffed and Dean laughed, some of the nervousness dropping away.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Dean said. “Charlie should be here any minute.”

“I think that’s her,” Sam said, nodding to the parking lot.

They all walked in together and went through security before joining in with the other families waiting for their loved ones to come home.

Someone called his name and Dean turned to see Andrea, making her way through the crowd, heavily pregnant.

“How’s it going?” Dean asked as he helped her find a seat.

“Ready for him to get here so we can get this kid out. She’s rowdy. How are you?”

Dean shrugged. Truthfully his stomach hurt and he felt shaky all over. “Good. Same as always,”

“You look good,” Andrea said, eyeing him appraisingly. “Especially good. The white dress shirt is doing something for you.”

“Well, Cas hasn’t seen me in five months, so…” He let the last word hang like it was self-explanatory, but Andrea narrowed her eyes like she was reading his mind.

“Right,” she said. “You’re hiding something.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that.” Dean waved her off. They’d become good friends since their talk a few years earlier, but there were some things he didn’t want to share with anyone.

Dean waved Sam, Jess, and Charlie over to join them and Jess striking up a conversation with Andrea saved Dean from further questioning. Everyone talked around him, but Dean kept his eyes on the tunnel where Cas would come from. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do. He’d planned it and changed it around over a dozen times, but now that Cas was almost home he couldn’t decide. Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Dean never took his eyes off the tunnel.

Applause broke out when the first person emerged, and after that it was some sort of organized chaos as people were united with their loved ones. Dean bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to get a glimpse of Cas.

“There,” Sam said, and pointed. Dean saw Benny first, then Cas’s dark head after. Cas looked around, missing Dean on the first sweep, but Benny tapped him on the arm and Cas’s face lit up when he saw Dean waiting.

All the nerves drained away and Dean knew what to do. He met Cas halfway and kissed him, then grabbed him into a fierce hug.

“I came home,” Cas offered.

“I knew you would,” Dean said. He knew it was time to let him go--it was weird to hold Cas that long, boyfriend or not--but he couldn’t let go. He tucked his head into Cas’s neck and felt Cas lean his head against him.

“You okay?” Cas asked softly.

“No, but I’m fucking glad you’re home.”

“I missed you.”

Dean chuckled against Cas’s skin and Cas tightened his arms around him. “I missed you too.”

Dean squeezed him again and stepped back, blinking at Cas and trying not to grin so wide, but goddammit he couldn’t stop. It was noisy and packed, and probably no one would notice, but it was right.

Dean grabbed Cas’s hands and knelt down. He heard gasps around them, but all Dean could see was Cas with his wide eyes and mouth dropped open.

“What are you-” Cas started.

“Don’t talk or I’ll fuck it up, okay?” Dean waited for Cas to nod before he went on. “I didn’t expect you. I didn’t realize I loved you for way too long, but I know it now more than anything I’ve ever known.” Dean let go of one of Cas’s hands to fish for the box and he brought it out to show Cas.

It was one of the first things he’d purchased after his income had stabilized. His mother’s rings deserved a proper box lined with velvet to hold them safe. Cas had helped him pick it out and recognized the dark exterior right away.

“Dean-”

Dean opened it up, a single ring inside, diamonds in a row, just like his mother’s had been. “It’s all her gold, her diamonds, just… remade for you.”

Cas pressed his lips together, and Dean recognized the stiff look of Cas trying to hold himself together.

“Will you marry me, Cas?”

Cas barely got out a _yes_ before Dean was on his feet again, kissing him and ignoring the crowd around them.

“You,” Cas whispered in his ear. “How did you…”

“See a while ago you left me this letter.” Dean said. “And it said something about this fantasy you had about me meeting you at the airport and running into your arms. I figured that was a good place to start.:

“A very good place to start,” Cas said.

When they finally separated, Charlie punched Dean in the arm. “You didn’t tell me?”

“He told me,” Sam said proudly.

“You knew?” Jess asked incredulously.

“Congratulations,” Benny said, reaching out to shake Dean’s hand.

“Take note,” Dean said to Charlie as Benny and Cas shook hands. “This is the proper reaction to this kind of thing.”

Cas squeezed his hand and Dean looked over at him. “Can we…” Cas motioned to an unoccupied corner of the room.

“Be right back,” Dean said, and followed Cas.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Cas said when they were out of hearing range.

“Is that a good ‘I can’t believe this’ or--”

“Your mother’s rings, Dean. I can’t believe you did that.”

Dean smiled. “I have a feeling she would want you to have them. I want you to have them.” He opened the box and looked at the ring, gold shining, diamonds sparkling. “I asked Bobby what he thought. And I asked Sam. Sam actually went with me to the jeweller to talk about it. I made sure he was okay with it too. Hell, I think he was more excited than I was if that’s even possible.”

Dean looked into Cas’s eyes, the familiar and beautiful blue he had looked forward to seeing again for months. “You’re my family, Cas, and she was my mother, so you should have this.” he looked back down. “I’m sorry it’s not really an engagement ring. It’s a wedding band, but I didn’t know if you’d want something like that, or just-”

Cas stopped his ramble with a kiss, sweet and gentle. “I can’t believe this just happened. I don’t know what to say. I love you, and-”

Dean kissed him and grinned. “That’s all you have to say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god... we made it to the end. Thank you so much to messier51 and profoundfall who helped with editing and beta things. It’s a much better fic because of you.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting. I'm especially grateful for your kindness to me while a few chapters were delayed.
> 
> If you have any questions or anything you can comment here or send me an ask on tumblr. In fact I’d like to talk to you about anything. Come find me on [tumblr](http://www.tellthenight.tumblr.com).


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